A Comedy of Manors
by Mundungus42
Summary: Lucius hires Hermione, a marriage consultant, to find a bride for Severus, secretly scheming to pair them up. What he gets is a bit more than he bargained for. LM/HG.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: **Very Adult Situations in the final chapter. If you don't like to read about nookie, do not read this.

**Author's Notes:** Written for first round (summer 2009) of the lm_hgficxchange at LiveJournal for dreamy_dragon73, who prompted me thus:

_A Comedy of Manners in which Hermione or Lucius wants to play matchmaker (who for is up to the author), but somehow it all goes awry. What happens next? Who do they turn to for help?_

**Disclaimer: **© 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

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Lucius Malfoy, handsome, clever, and rich, with an opulent estate and an ex-wife who had remarried quickly and well enough to preclude any claim on his assets, was the epitome of the gay bachelor. Parties with enough champagne to bathe entire principalities were his particular forte, as was the brisk manner with which indiscretions were dealt the following morning, to the relief of many an elected official. The only real evil in Lucius now was that there were no Dark Lords catering to his baser instincts, his reputation was better than it had ever been, and his heir had produced three sons, so there was really nothing left for him to accomplish, and he knew it. So did his best and oldest friend, who was justifiably concerned that Lucius's ennui could have grave consequences for him.

Severus Snape was a sensible man several years Lucius's junior, and he was not only an intimate friend, but also a war hero whose steadfast friendship had been instrumental in restoring, or rather, creating Lucius's good name following the Second Unpleasantness from many years before. Severus had taken a modest but attractive home that had once been the estate's vicarage, and, having no House-Elves of his own, was frequently at Malfoy Manor for meals. He recently been to London to see to his business affairs but now joined Lucius for tea, which had been laid in a manner exceeding his satisfaction.

"Ginger biscuits," observed Severus. "As it's neither my birthday nor yours, one can only conclude that there is something to celebrate."

Lucius waved his hand, and a steaming cup appeared before his friend. "Astute as always, my dear Severus. Today we shall drink to the health and happiness of my grandson Arcturus, who, as of this morning, is engaged to be married."

Severus blinked in surprise. "Arcturus engaged? I hadn't any idea he was seeing someone."

"He wasn't, but the marriage broker that Draco retained circumvented the whole tedious process of getting to know one another. I must say, I had my objections when Draco first mentioned her name, but her results speak for themselves."

The corners of Severus's mouth turned downward in disapproval. "Not the widow again."

"I'm afraid so," said Lucius with a sigh. "Since her success with Scorpius, Draco won't hear a word against her. I fear he shall insist on her when Ganymede reaches his majority."

"The nerve of the woman!" exclaimed Severus. "How she can claim to know anything about marriage when she drove her own husband to an early grave?"

"That's not very generous of you, Severus," admonished Lucius. "She married above her, albeit slightly, and produced healthy, magically powerful children. That's more than enough for a desperate family with a history of producing squibs."

"She's a fraud, said Severus, munching grumpily on a bit of Victoria sponge cake. "I knew her when she was in school, you know. She hasn't a jot of common sense."

"She was responsible for the Parkinson-DeWinter match," said Lucius. "Nine children, and not a squib among them. She even managed to find a deposed Russian prince for Bulstrode, of whom we all despaired. Two children, both making top marks at Durmstrang."

"Yes, yes," said Severus testily. "And she introduced dozens of other pureblood couples who nearly overbred themselves into extinction. There's nothing impressive about what she's doing. Anybody who bothered reading the family registers could do the same."

Lucius regarded his friend with a calculating look. "You have rather frank opinions on the subject of Mrs. Weasley for someone who hasn't seen her in over twenty years. Not that I can disagree with your assessment, given how blessedly little I know of her."

"I taught her. I don't need to make small talk with her to know her myriad deficiencies."

While Severus rattled off a comprehensive list of everything that irritated him about the widow Weasley, a diverting thought occurred to Lucius. Severus was a dear friend, but he hadn't been with a woman for a very long time, and it showed, particularly when Lucius was embroiled in one of his occasional three-month romances. Not only was his temper dreadful, he was more destructive than a teething Weimaraner. The Manor's front gates had never fully recovered from Severus's irritation at having been refused entry during what had promised to be an enjoyable evening with a Swedish Metamorphmage.

Given that Severus's tongue was nearly as sharp as the widow Weasley's was reputed to be, getting the two into the same room would be well worth the expense of retaining her, if only for entertainment value. Severus would fall for her, of course. He had no resistance when it came to strong-willed females, and it was a truth universally acknowledged that any single woman possessed of a sharp tongue must be in want of a good shagging. With Severus thus engaged, Lucius anticipated having enough time to pursue a dozen Swedish Metamorphmages, if a dozen of them existed. Fortunately, Severus was running out of synonyms for "swot."

"Very well, my friend," said Lucius, leaning forward in a conspiratorial manner, "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

"Don't be an idiot," said Lucius, "At least hear what I have to say."

"The last time I took you up on a proposition, I ended up spending the night in the Ministry lockup with an amorous lady goblin and her intoxicated husband. It took months to straighten out my accounts after he'd had his revenge, and I hadn't even had the benefit of the intriguing experience I was accused of. No, Lucius, I will not be cajoled, bullied, or convinced to participate in another one of your schemes."

"Even if it involves exposing the Weasley woman for what she really is?"

Severus was halfway through shaking his head decisively when he paused.

"Something wrong with your neck, old thing?" asked Lucius indolently. "I shall send one of the elves for a hot compress."

"You want to ruin Granger? Or Weasley -whatever she goes by these days? Why?"

"My dear Severus, must I truly explain to you the ignominy of depending on a woman like that to secure my family's success?"

"If the matches are successful, why does it matter to you how they came about?"

"Because with every successful match that woman makes, her reputation grows, and the more helpful acquaintances she gains in a circle to which she'd never be allowed access otherwise," said Lucius, not needing to feign the distaste in his voice. "She is only a businesswoman, after all, but I heard that the Crabbe-Goyles are inviting her to little Griselda's naming ceremony. Such an audacious invasion of our social circle will not be tolerated."

"I can't imagine she'd have much interest in your circle," said Severus with a smirk. "She'd probably consider it a large step down."

"And that is precisely why her presence must be nipped in the bud," said Lucius.

Severus's smirk widened. "So you plan to shun her before she can shun us?"

Lucius gave his friend a withering look. "If humiliating an obnoxious former student holds no charm for you anymore, Severus, then I hardly know you."

"Oh, I'll do it," he retorted, taking a biscuit. "I simply wanted to assure myself that my motives are purer than yours. Now, tell me how you plan to go about it. My expertise in all things bookworm is at your disposal."

"Terribly good of you, Severus. I am in your debt. Now, do you have plans for Tuesday morning?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tuesday morning saw Lucius and Severus, each dressed in his most opulent and intimidating robes, sitting in a rather plain, distressingly modern reception area whose only redeeming feature was a wall of large windows overlooking a nearby park. Their wands had been confiscated by a cheery but insistent receptionist upon entering the large offices from which Mrs. Weasley oversaw her matchmaking enterprise.

At bang on nine-thirty, the doors behind them swung open.

"Mrs. Weasley will see you now," announced the receptionist, somewhat unnecessarily, and the two men filed into the office beyond.

The woman seated at the desk stood at their entrance and, to Lucius's surprise, gave Severus a warm smile. Perhaps his own little matchmaking venture would be easier than he thought. He found her to be far more tame-looking than Draco's description led him to imagine. She was of average build, average looks, and dressed in a thoroughly average way: aubergine business robes with a tolerably flattering scarf about her neck. She was standing at the wrong side of the desk to see what kind of shoes she was wearing, but he doubted they were anything special. Probably something dull and sensible.

"Professor Snape," she said, extending a hand in welcome. "It's good to see you." Lucius was pleased to see that Severus took her hand without flinching or scowling. In fact, if the lack of hostility was any indication, the man was favourably impressed.

"Likewise, Mrs. Weasley," he returned.

"Won't you have a seat?" she asked, gesturing at two black leather monstrosities that Lucius supposed were to be sat upon. He refused to be miffed at not having the opportunity to pause disdainfully before shaking her hand. In fact, the woman seemed determined not to acknowledge his presence. She wasn't still miffed over her unannounced visit to the manor during the war, was she? He'd had nothing to do with the beastly business. He hadn't been allowed.

Severus nodded and sat, and Lucius followed suit.

"Now," she said, opening a slim silver case that lay on her desk, "I must confess to some bewilderment."

"Surely there can be no question of why we are here, Mrs. Weasley," said Lucius in his silkiest tones. "Not after your triumphs with Scorpius and Arcturus."

The infuriating woman didn't even look at him. "I would understand if you were here with Draco, Professor, but I can't think of any good reason why the elder Mr. Malfoy would retain my services on your behalf. He made his views on my character quite plain at his grandson's wedding."

Lucius didn't particularly like the way she said the word "elder," but he certainly didn't want her to know that. And given the amount of champagne he'd consumed at Scorpius's wedding, he hadn't any recollection of what he'd said. "A misunderstanding, I'm sure," he demurred.

"Really?" she asked. "I hadn't realized the phrase 'puffed-up social-climbing guttersnipe' could mean anything else."

"I was speaking ironically," said Lucius. "Surely, no-one could think of you as puffed-up, Mrs. Weasley."

The woman's eyes fairly sparkled with animosity, but fortunately, Severus managed to cut in. "Lucius is one of my oldest friends, Mrs. Weasley," he said, with just the right amount of steel in his voice, "and he is doing for me what I consider to be a great favour. If his presence offend you, we will be happy to go elsewhere."

"I couldn't care less about him," she replied, recovering her composure with startling rapidity. "It's a matter of trade secrets, and I don't trust him with mine." She raised her hands to the open the silver case on her desk and made some odd tapping noises. Another contraption behind her began humming and buzzing, and a moment later, two pieces of parchment slid out of the front. "I'd be obliged if you would both sign these non-disclosure forms before we go any further."

Severus took his without a word and handed the other to Lucius with a scowl. "Is this really necessary?" asked Lucius with distaste. "After all, I'm not the one who will be on the receiving end of your proprietary service."

She turned to look at him at last, her brown eyes cool and dispassionate. "You will either sign the form or leave the room, Mr. Malfoy. It's your choice."

Lucius gave a pained sigh and produced a handsome quill from his robes. "Very well," he said, scrawling his signature on the line at the bottom. He handed the quill to Severus and he did the same, albeit haltingly and with a blank look on his face.

She examined the forms, then nodded and slid them into a drawer on her desk. "All right, Professor," she said, sitting back at her desk and giving him an appraising look. "Why do you wish to take a wife?"

Only someone who had been a close acquaintance of Severus's for nearly forty years would see the disquiet Severus felt at the question. To the Weasley woman, it would look like an insouciant lift of the eyebrows.

"It's the done thing, isn't it?" said Severus.

"Marriage is a fine institution," she replied, "but not everybody is suited to institutional life. What makes you think it's a state that you would find agreeable?"

Severus seemed to consider her question. "I've reached a point in my life where I have everything a man could want, short of someone to share it with."

"You have friends," said Hermione. "One would think that you would do some searching among your acquaintances before you would entrust your future to someone you don't even like."

Severus wisely chose to avoid protesting her last statement. "I have acquaintances, it's true," he said with dignity, "but I didn't think I would have to explain to you, of all people, that my humble origins are an insurmountable barrier to forming an advantageous union with many of my circle."

Bravo, Severus, thought Lucius. As if she had heard his mental exultation, her narrowed eyes turned upon him. "And you, Mr. Malfoy? Do you really think your own friend such an unsuitable prospect?"

"I'm afraid that Severus is not at all my type, Mrs. Weasley," said Lucius. "I would that it were otherwise. It would simplify a great many things."

The corner of her mouth rose infinitesimally and she turned back to Severus. "Professor Snape, you are what people in my trade call a 'hot commodity.' You are still in middle age, have no unfortunate encumbrances, are distinguished-looking, enjoy a sterling reputation, and command a steady, respectable income. The only thing standing between you and marital felicity, as far as I see it, is your unfortunate choice of acquaintances. Were you to spend time in less old-fashioned company, you would never be in want of companionship."

"I'm rather old-fashioned myself, Mrs. Weasley," replied Severus humbly, though he was clearly deriving entirely too much amusement at Lucius's expense. "And I am far too old and set in my ways to consider starting afresh, and too impatient to go through the bother of dating."

Hermione's mouth thinned in a way that made Lucius wonder if she hadn't caught on to his game. "Mr. Malfoy, would you excuse us, please? If Professor Snape and I are unable to hammer out something in your absence, I will waive my consultation fee." She pressed a button on her desk, and the door opened to reveal the receptionist.

"Milton, would you please see Mr. Malfoy to the reception area? And fetch him some tea, would you?"

Lucius was unhappy with this turn of events, but he could think of no plausible objection and he allowed himself to be escorted to the lobby.

"Millk and sugar?" asked Milton.

Malfoy gave him an arch look. "Don't you have an elf for this sort of thing?"

"Mrs. Weasley does not approve of forcing elves to do menial tasks," said Milton with studied blandness.

Lucius sighed. "Very well. A blend of Keemun and Ceylon if you have it, Assam or Darjeeling if you haven't, brewed in spring water for no more than four minutes and fifteen seconds. And be sure to warm the pot. Ceramic; I cannot abide the taste of metal. And if you add the milk – fresh, of course - to the tea rather than the tea to the milk, I shall know. Now hop to it!"

To his surprise, Milton didn't bat an eye. "Mrs. Weasley does not care for Keemun. Since I can't provide your preferred blend, would you prefer Assam, Ceylon, Darjeeling?"

"Ceylon," said Lucius impatiently, as if Milton ought to have known that.

"If I may suggest it," said Milton, "Mrs. Weasley takes Ceylon with a mild infusion of lavender. Would that be to your taste?"

Lucius was about to express scorn at adulterating such fine tea with herbs, but his mouth began to water at the thought of the distinctive, bright Ceylon with its delicate nose entwined intimately with the piquant, floral bouquet of lavender. It wasn't traditional, nor anything he'd ever heard of, but he instinctively knew that it would suit him. "That would be agreeable," he said at last.

Milton nodded. "I'll be back with your tea momentarily."

Once the officious fellow was gone, Lucius wasted no time in attempting to locate his wand, but the blasted receptionist had taken them with him. Scowling at the lengths to which the widow had goaded him, he drew his hair back and pressed his ear to the office door. The Weasley woman was speaking.

"-really couldn't care less," she said dismissively. "All purebloods that care enough about their bloodlines to enlist the help of a marriage broker look down on me. But they daren't sneer to my face because they desperately need my services in order to sustain themselves. That they fret over my alleged social aspirations is merely the icing on an already fine cake, especially considering that their fears are groundless."

Lucius wondered which families were so ill-mannered as to let the woman sense their disdain.

"Surely there are other marriage brokers," replied Severus amiably.

"All purebloods," scoffed Hermione. "I'm better than they are for two reasons. First, mine is an international service, so my pool of prospective matches is much larger. Secondly, none of them can match interests as accurately as I can, because they shun Muggle science, which modern Magical Theory has long since shown to be compatible, and computers, which I utilise on a variety of suitability and compatibility matrices. If purebloods would rather pay me a thousand times what it would cost them to subscribe to an internet dating service, who am I to say no?"

Lucius could nearly hear Severus's frown. "You mean to say that the method by which you find spouses isn't proprietary?"

"Heavens no!" exclaimed Hermione with a laugh. "It would be like trying to patent aloe burn salve. The only things I use to determine compatibility that you couldn't find with ten quid and a computer are my own instincts. And speaking of those, I hope you will be willing to answer a few questions frankly for me."

"I am at your disposal," he replied. Lucius feared that Severus was being unconvincingly obsequious, but the woman began her questions in an amused voice.

"Do you have any preference about your future wife's family?"

"Given the instability of my own childhood home, I should prefer her to have grown up in a stable one, but the blood status of that home is immaterial."

"Really? Given the company you keep, I thought you'd be most interested in a Pureblooded witch."

"I am perfectly content in my current circle, Hermione." Lucius blinked at the informal address. "I simply want someone with whom I am equally comfortable reading in bed or taking tea at Lucius's."

"Well, that both broadens and narrows your prospects," said Hermione. There was an odd tapping noise in the silence that followed. "What about education? I know a number of highly educated single ladies. There's a Russian Potions Mistress by the name of Kuznetzova who's quite lovely."

Severus must have pulled a particularly sour expression, because the woman laughed. "Right, nobody whose publications have prompted you to despair of peer review," she said, the smile clearly audible in her voice. "Do you have any preferences as far as race and nationality are concerned?"

"Provided she is fluent in English or German, I am open to all options."

Lucius frowned. He didn't know Severus spoke German. Why had he never seen fit to mention that detail? There was more of the infernal tapping.

"Do you prefer women who have never been married?"

"I have no preference - provided she hasn't had had multiple husbands die under mysterious circumstances, of course."

"Understandable," she replied airily. "That would show a weakness for men who go to extraordinary lengths to get out of doing the washing up. How do you feel about children?"

"They are tolerable, I suppose," said Severus. "I don't harbour any illusions that I will be any woman's first lover, so evidence of the fact wouldn't be anathema."

"Do you desire children of your own?"

Lucius stilled. He'd broached the subject with Severus once, and the man had nearly bitten his head off. The moments stretched longer as he waited for the inevitable explosion, but it never came.

"I hadn't really entertained the possibility that I might meet someone with whom I would be interested in having children," he said thoughtfully. "Now that the possibility is looking more within my reach, I would not rule it out."

That was laying it on a bit thick, in Lucius's opinion.

"I appreciate your confidence," she replied, clearly moved. "I will do everything within my power to ensure that it is not misplaced. Do you have an ideal age range in mind?"

"I can't imagine having much in common with anybody younger than fifty."

Lucius was glad that there was a door to muffle his snort of disbelief.

"May we lower the threshold to thirty-five or forty? In my experience, that's an age when many career-minded women begin to reap the rewards of their success and wish to start looking for a mate."

"Very well, but I will not tolerate mindless gigglers," grumbled Severus.

"Perish the thought," she replied briskly. "Now, would it matter to you if your wife worked outside the home?"

Lucius did not hear Severus's response because he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and sprang into a nearby chair and made a show of reading a glossy magazine.

"Your tea," said Milton, bearing a tray set with the most charming tea things that Lucius had ever had the pleasure of seeing. The porcelain was a delicate blue and adorned with a gold band at the rim, which Lucius found to be delightfully appropriate for a marriage broker. Milton made a show of pouring milk into a cup before topping it gently with steaming, fragrant, perfectly brewed tea and handing the cup and saucer to Lucius with great ceremony.

Lucius accepted the saucer with a nod and lifted the cup, which was beautifully shaped, and not so wide as to cool the tea too quickly. The protrusion on the handle that usually made the cup harder to hold rested precisely on his middle finger, which kept his other fingers from being pressed against the overwarm side of the cup. It was a lovely thing. It must have been a wedding gift from someone with more taste than the Muggleborn possessed. The tea, which was even more richly fragrant than Lucius had imagined, was probably a present from a grateful client. He had to admit that Hermione Weasley had something of a gift for making a good impression on those inclined to dislike her, and while his elves could brew an excellent cup, they'd never offered him anything like this.

Milton returned to his desk, where he began sorting the morning post.

Lucius took a spoon from the tray and stirred his tea rather unnecessarily whilst mulling over what he'd heard. Clearly, Severus and the Weasley woman -iHermione/i, he thought scornfully- were getting on well. He wished he had been able to hear the first part of their conversation. Clearly, they'd been talking about him, and while Lucius generally enjoyed being talked about, not knowing what had been said was most provoking. Whatever it had been, Severus had clearly allayed the woman's fears about his intentions. This was good, but difficult, since even Lucius couldn't tell how serious Severus was being when Severus didn't wish anybody to know. He hoped it would not be too difficult to convince Severus to meet with the woman again.

He set down his cup and saucer and flipped idly through the pages of the magazine, pretending not to notice the receptionist's occasional glances. He toyed briefly with the idea of subduing Milton, retrieving his wand, and casting an eavesdropping spell, which was far more dignified than pressing one's ear to the door. A judiciously applied Memory Charm would ensure that Milton forgot about Lucius altogether. However, he lacked the opportunity to formulate a plan, much less execute it before the door to the woman's office opened and she stepped out, speaking quietly with Severus.

Lucius watched them surreptitiously out of the corner of his eye. The woman was laughing at something Severus had said to her, and he was looking pleased with himself. He made a polite little bow, which made her smile, and she offered him her hand. He gave a sardonic little smirk at her insistence on modern customs but shook her hand warmly.

"It's been a pleasure, Severus," she said. "Expect my owl no later than the day after tomorrow. Please be frank in your appraisal, otherwise, I won't be able to narrow the list further."

"The pleasure has been all mine, Hermione," said Severus. He turned to the waiting area where Lucius was sitting. "Lucius, thank you for waiting."

"Not at all," said Lucius, finishing the last drops of the delectable tea and replacing his magazine on the table. "Good day, Mrs. Weasley."

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy, Severus." She went to collect the post from Milton's desk, and a small flash of light made Lucius freeze in his tracks. Mrs. Weasley had walked through the morning sunlight, and a beam had fallen across her foot.

Lucius found himself staring at the most striking bit of footwear he'd ever seen. At first, it appeared to be a trim, heeled boot in dove-grey silk with shiny calfskin trim, but when she turned to walk back to her office, he swallowed hard when he realized that the front of the boot was completely open, from the top of her ankle to a delicate point low on her foot, which displayed an expanse of creamy skin and a tantalising hint of shadow from the crease between her toes.

However, the arresting sight was gone from his view in a flutter of aubergine robes, and the office door closed quietly behind her. Lucius stood staring at where she had been, feeling equal parts stunned, bereft, and furious. How idare/i she! How dare that shameless hoyden parade about in such provocative shoes, in front of potential clients, no less! What slight impression the elegance of her tea had made evaporated in a proper huff, and he left the office following Severus, who had completely missed the sartorial spectacle and seemed completely unaware of Lucius's annoyance. Lucius adopted his most condescending expression. It wouldn't do for anybody to see the effect that Mrs. Weasley's slender foot had had on him. Though perhaps a discreet inquiry from Severus might reveal where she'd found them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **© 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

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Lucius hardly spoke over their luncheon, and Severus was concerned and more than a bit apprehensive. The last time he'd seen his friend so lost in thought, or plot, as appeared to be the case, they'd had a new Minister of Magic the following week, and the Deputy Undersecretary was serving a hard labour sentence in Azkaban. It's true, the Weasley woman's non-disclosure form had put something of a wrinkle in their plans to expose her as a fraud, but so had the woman's open, charming manner. Clearly, Lucius still hoped to bring her to her knees, but Severus was intrigued by the woman's claims and was frankly quite curious what sort of woman she would match him with. Bringing about the result he desired would involve subtlety, subterfuge, and quite possibly allowing Lucius the lion's share of the cucumber sandwiches.

Severus took a cucumber sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before commenting, "I am under the distinct impression that the Weasley woman was not completely forthright with me."

"Don't you mean _Hermione_?" asked Lucius with an ill-tempered sneer.

Lucius had definitely been listening at the door. He couldn't have heard much during the time it had taken Hermione's assistant to prepare tea, but it didn't pay to take chances. Severus responded with a snort. "If you like. She claims her methods aren't proprietary, but made us both sign forms and refused to do any work in front of me. To me, this indicates that she is not being truthful."

Lucius narrowed his eyes in thought. "Interesting," he said, not giving anything away. "What do you propose we do about it?"

"The most conservative course of action would be to play along as if we accepted her assurances and were continuing with her service in the hope that a solution would present itself. She may be clever, but she's bound to slip up eventually, especially if she insists on being so insufferably familiar."

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Intelligence-gathering will be somewhat harder via owl, will it not?"

"There are any number of legitimate-sounding reasons for us to pay another visit," said Severus testily. "Or perhaps just me. Yes, that might achieve better results."

Lucius frowned. "Don't you think an alliance against your common 'enemy' might put her more at ease in your company?"

Severus felt a cold feeling settle in his stomach. Lucius suspected something was amiss if he was going to insist on being present at all of their meetings.

"Perhaps," he said, adding a frown of his own for good measure.

Lucius took a muffin from the tray and neatly bisected it with his knife. "What was your impression of the woman, Severus?"

Severus covered a nervous swallow by taking a sip of tea. "I really didn't have much of one," he said carefully. "She's older, of course, and the war obviously took something of a toll on her. She doesn't seem quite as anxious to prove herself as she once was, but she remains the same as she ever was in essentials."

"Really?" asked Lucius sharply. "You didn't notice anything in particular about her?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you could possibly mean," said Severus, hoping to throw Lucius off whatever scent he was pursuing.

The agitated manner in which Lucius buttered his crumpet belied his calming words. "I don't mean anything in particular, my dear Severus. Now, the woman will be sending you information on some potential mates over the next few days. If you give her conflicting feedback on your preferences, then she will have no choice but to insist on another face-to-face meeting so that she may further assess you. As I am the one who is paying for the service, your dissatisfaction with her recommendations will provide me ample reason to insist on being present."

"Very well," said Severus, rising abruptly. It was always better for Lucius to think that he was storming out rather than hastily retreating. "I will call on you tomorrow when I receive the first batch of aspiring Snapes."

"See that you do," said Lucius. "And Severus? The next time we see the widow Weasley, you would be well advised to pay closer attention to her person, since you will be in a position superior to mine for assessing her."

Severus didn't bother gracing this with a response. He tossed his serviette on the table and left through the garden. As he trudged the easy distance back to his house, he mulled over Lucius's words. He was unable to come up with a plausible reason for Lucius's request to pay attention to Hermione's "person." He had noticed her pleasingly trim and well-tailored figure, certainly, and that her hair was cut short in an impish style that set off her dimples to perfection. But surely Lucius had noticed that himself. What on earth had he meant?

His musings were cut short by the sight of a tidily-wrapped brown parcel on his doorstep. He was surprised to find that it contained dozens of files on prospective matches. Hermione hadn't been exaggerating about his being a hot commodity. He changed into his warm slippers, poured himself a cup of tea, fetched his long-neglected grading quill, and began to read, making careful notes as he went.

Those who used extraneous apostrophes in their applications were immediately rejected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The following day found Lucius in far better spirits. Roast beef for dinner and a particularly fine port had gone a long way toward soothing his annoyance with the upstart and her audacious shoes, and a good night's sleep had placed things in proper perspective. Clearly, the woman liked Severus tolerably well, and Severus hadn't treated him to a repeat performance of The Life and Faults of Hermione Weasley, so he can't have disliked her as much as he had expected to. No, his plan to manoeuvre the two into bed together was progressing far more rapidly than he had anticipated. And perhaps Severus could manage to mend bridges between himself and the girl long enough that Lucius could find out where she bought her shoes, since Severus was obviously something of a footwear philistine.

He slid on his sumptuously embroidered Turkish slippers with a sigh and padded to the dining room, where he was surprised to find Severus helping himself to far more than his customary boiled egg and toast.

Lucius eyed Severus's plate, which was overflowing with bacon, eggs, beans, and even a muffin. "Are you feeling well, Severus?" asked Lucius, helping himself to a much daintier amount of food.

"Missed dinner," grunted Severus, who clearly hadn't had any tea yet. "The blasted woman sent over sixty files for me to review yesterday." He shoved a large mouthful of toast and beans into his mouth and chewed with gusto.

"Sixty?" asked Lucius doubtfully, looking at the precipitous pile of paper on his dining room table.

"Sixty from yesterday," corrected Severus. "I winnowed those down to thirty, but then a hundred more arrived this morning that I haven't even begun to look over. You'll want to eat a bit more than that. You've a hard day's work ahead of you."

Lucius opened the file at the top of the pile, and smiled broadly at the Asian beauty in the photograph, who gave him a demure smile in return and promptly folded one leg behind her head. "Work? My dear Severus, this is going to be a pleasure."

"You say that now," returned Severus, who had somehow managed to polish off the eggs and the muffin while he was reviewing the first file. "Wait until you've seen twenty files and tried to eliminate any of them. The whole process is most unscientific. No idea what that woman means by some of these choices."

Lucius was still engrossed in the file he'd selected, and Severus sighed. Lucius was only going to make matters worse.

Seven hours later, Severus had yet to prise the file from Lucius's hands.

"I absolutely refuse to allow that file among my selection. Hermione will think I have only one thing on my mind."

"Now, now, Severus, surely you wouldn't judge any woman based on aesthetics alone."

"I fail to see how I could possibly have anything in common with a contortionist."

"Rheumatism, I'd wager. She is forty, after all."

"No, Lucius."

"Compromise, my dear Severus, is necessary. I've allowed you several women who are clearly unsuitable. Madam Praetorius, for one. She's ninety if she's a day, and looks even older."

"Madam Praetorius is a researcher of the highest calibre," exclaimed Severus hotly. "We should never run out of conversation."

"All you would do is converse with her," countered Lucius. "I will not allow you to bind yourself to a woman to whom you are not the least bit attracted. Not only would it be foolish beyond words, it would also be unfair to the lady. Any partner has a right to expect a certain amount of physical intimacy, and if you couldn't bring yourself to do your husbandly duties, you'd be cuckolded before the year is out."

"Have it your way," snapped Severus, tossing Madam Praetorius into the rejected pile. "I've compromised. Now, be so good as to 'compromise' Miss Ling as well."

"I should be delighted to compromise Miss Ling," said Lucius with a feral smile, "but she was chosen for you, not for me. Leave her in, Severus. It'll make the Weasley woman think you're worldly."

"She'll think I'm a lecher," Severus retorted. "Put the file with the rejects where it belongs."

"Reject the Right Honourable Angora Jumper, and I'll consider it. Unless you plan to take Allergy Potion indefinitely to accommodate your wife's fashion misstatements."

"Judge Hackett is a highly respected ­­­­- bollocks. Fine. Hackett is out. Ling, if you please?"

"You know, Lady Pearl Sticklethwait, isn't at all right for you, either. I can't see you breeding Hinkypunks for pleasure and profit."

"Lucius," began Severus. The vein in his forehead was beginning to throb alarmingly.

"You will include Miss Ling, or you're on your own in sifting through the rest of these women," exclaimed Lucius, who was becoming improbably fond of Miss Ling, for all that she and Severus clearly had nothing in common, other than disliking cats. The woman was American, for Circe's sake. She probably took her tea with cream.

Severus's glare was venomous. "You are trying to make me look foolish in front of Hermione. Why?"

Lucius raised his eyes to the heavens for a moment before answering. "Being attracted to a beautiful woman will not make you look foolish. It will make you look as if you have usable equipment between your legs, which is more than can be said for any of your choices. Ultimately, it's your decision, old friend. Just ask yourself this: would you rather have the Muggleborn think you're quixotic or impotent?"

Severus scowled. "Add Miss Ling to the 'possible' pile."

"Delighted to, old thing," said Lucius, trying to smirk as humbly as possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The following afternoon found them back in Hermione's sterile waiting room, having received an owl requesting a face-to-face meeting to discuss the ten women Severus had selected as his top choices. They were slightly early, and Severus was looking out the window. Lucius was practising his looks of icy hauteur and trying to make the receptionist shift uncomfortably in his chair with only his expression, but the man was either ignoring him or had nerves of steel. Given his employer's sharp wit, Lucius suspected the latter.

Lucius was quite proud of the short list he had threatened and cajoled Severus into compiling. It included two women with whom Severus had a great deal in common, though in accordance with his master plan, none were as attractive as Hermione, save for the contortionist. But that was, of course, the point: to have Severus meet these women and decide that Hermione was better than any of them, sweep her off into the sunset and leave the flexible Miss Ling to him.

The receptionist finally stood and left the room, to Lucius's satisfaction. He was about to see if he could find where the receptionist had stashed his wand when Severus spoke.

"Can it really be as simple as this?"

"Sorry, I haven't the pleasure of understanding you."

"Finding a bride. Is it really as easy as sifting through a pile of applications and choosing the ones that look the best on paper?"

"You're asking the wrong person, old friend," said Lucius. "My choice was between Bellatrix and Narcissa. Things were much simpler in the days when one could exclude prospective spouses based on blood status. All this modern insistence on having common interests and mutual affection is needlessly complex."

Severus gave him a sardonic smile. "Your own son married for love, and he's done better for himself than any of us."

"If they can stand to be in the same room with one another after forty years, then perhaps I will agree with you," said Lucius with a bit more vehemence than he liked.

Severus immediately sensed that he'd brought up a sore subject. "Apologies, Lucius, if I offended. It can be easy, even for me, to forget that-"

"Water under the bridge," interrupted Lucius brusquely. "As to your original query, we shall see if finding a bride for you is as simple as a few visits to Hermione Weasley. For all we know, they could all have squeaky voices and smell of cat."

"Give me a bit of credit," came a voice from the doorway. Hermione stood there with a wry smile on her face. Her ensemble was grey today, though her boots were bright red. "I do vet these women personally, and I can guarantee that none of them are offensive to the nose. And really, Severus, if you had a horror of squeaky voices, you couldn't have survived teaching for as long as you did."

Severus adopted his most put-upon expression. "May you never know the full extent of the sacrifices I made for the Order, Hermione."

This made her giggle. "All right," she said, ushering them into her office. "I hope you brought your diaries, because we have some scheduling to do. Milton? That's odd. Did either of you see where Milton went?"

Before Lucius had the chance to answer, the man in question reappeared with a steaming pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"I recalled how much Mr. Malfoy enjoyed the tea during his last visit," he said. "I took the liberty of preparing some for your consultation."

Hermione gave her assistant a hard look, which he met with a blandly professional look, and then she shrugged. "That was very thoughtful. Thank you, Milton."

Milton nodded and turned to leave, but not before throwing what was unmistakably a wink at Lucius, who choked on the biscuit he'd begun nibbling.

Severus pounded him on the back, which only forced the tickling crumbs further down his windpipe. His eyes were beginning to water, and he knew his face was turning red from the effort of coughing.

Hermione placed a glass of water in his hand, and he drank gratefully, still coughing, but eventually ceasing and sinking gratefully into one of Hermione's hideous chairs.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Weasley," he wheezed at last.

"Not at all, Mr. Malfoy," she said. Her eyes were dancing with merriment, which led him to conclude that she'd seen the cause of his distress. "Severus, if you'd be so kind as to take a seat, we may begin. Now, I must say, I'm very pleased with your choices. All of them, save one, were ladies that I would have chosen for you, and I'm glad to know we're on the same page as far as that's concerned."

"I think I know which one you mean," said Severus, "and we have Lucius to thank for that one."

Lucius, who was still trying to catch his breath, glared at Severus. Still a traitor after all these years.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Lucius. "iYou/i were responsible for Sarah Watson?"

"Watson?" said Severus, sniffing. "I meant the circus performer. I chose Watson. I should think that a Potions Master and a Mediwitch would have a great deal in common."

"Oh, no, Watson's entirely wrong for you," exclaimed Hermione. "I only included her because I wanted to see if you were choosing the women you felt you were supposed to like rather than the ones to whom you felt a genuine attraction. Sarah has many fine qualities, but your lifestyles and tastes are not compatible at all. Or did you miss that she works nights at St. Mungo's and her favourite singer is Celestina Warbeck?"

Severus blinked in surprise, and Lucius broke into another fit of coughing.

"I must have missed those bits of information," he admitted, glaring at Lucius.

"I was afraid you had. I don't want to have to start all over again, but we may have to if it turns out you've only been paying attention to their job descriptions. I'm assuming that's why Lucius had to force you to include Grace Ling, correct?"

Severus scowled. "She's not at all my type."

Hermione's quill was poised over Grace Ling's file. "Why? Because she's Asian? Petite? An entertainer?"

"She's beautiful," said Severus impatiently. "The last thing I need is a wife who might run off with someone else the moment I lose my temper."

Lucius froze mid-cough. Hermione's eyes widened perceptibly. Severus flushed crimson, aware that he'd made a highly personal and embarrassing revelation to the last woman on earth he wanted to know about it. She'd seen his memories. She knew to what failed relationship he was referring, and so did Lucius.

To Hermione's great credit, she paused for only an instant. "My apologies if I failed to communicate this clearly, Severus," she said in a tone that was so professional and businesslike that Lucius could have kissed her. For her sensitivity towards Severus, of course. "These aren't just women that I've chosen, these are women who have received a very frank assessment of you and expressed interest anyway. If these women were looking for a dazzling social butterfly, they wouldn't have selected you. They chose you because they're looking for something more than roses and teddy bears. They're looking for quality, not flash."

Severus sat in stony silence.

Hermione poured three cups of tea and handed one to Severus. "Now, I suggest that you take another look at these ten files. Nine, if we exclude Sarah Watson. Look at their interests. See if their pictures attract you. You've had two hundred women express interest in not quite three days. You're not going to run out of options anytime soon. Be choosy, Severus. You deserve the best. And speaking of which, Grace Ling stays. She's one of those you have to meet to believe. Here are the additional thirty files that arrived this morning. I've already removed the celebrity chasers and your former students at Hogwarts. There's a private room just there where you can look at them. You're my final appointment of the day, so take your time. Mr. Malfoy and I will be here when you're finished."

Severus clutched the pile in his hands and followed her wordlessly into the next room. She emerged a moment later, closed the door behind her, and returned to her desk.

Lucius watched her with newly opened eyes. This was a woman with an acutely developed skill for dealing with people. This was a woman with enough tact to make even Severus Snape go along with her suggestions without receiving a tongue-lashing. This was a woman who was wearing a pair of buttery lambskin boots that looked fine enough to lick.

He shook his head. He was becoming dangerously distracted. It would not do, especially when the full measure of her formidable skills would be focused on him for the next ten minutes at least.

Thankfully, she settled herself and her distracting shoes behind her desk and gestured to the tray Milton had left. "Biscuit, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Lucius," he corrected, taking a biscuit and giving her a close-lipped but polite smile. He held up his teacup, which was part of the set he'd so admired the day before. "Such a charming pattern. Wherever did you find it?"

Her glare took him by surprise. "Nowhere that would be of interest to you."

"Now that's hardly fair, Hermione. I may call you Hermione, may I not?" He continued without waiting for a response. "If you think I'd disdain artistry of this sort merely because it happens to adorn a teacup, then you misjudge me."

She met his eye. "The set came from a Muggle antique store in Barnes. I would be happy to give you the owner's card, if you like."

Lucius was so surprised he couldn't bring himself to sneer. It had never occurred to him that Muggles, even of the antique variety, could produce anything like this. The unfortunate trip recently he'd taken through London's outskirts had been populated with a very different sort of Muggle. He had seen more mauve velvet and vulgar jewellery on that escapade than he'd seen in his entire life. However, the only thing he allowed to register on his face was another polite smile. "That's very kind. Thank you, Hermione."

She gave him an appraising look before she opened a drawer to search for the card she'd promised. He could tell he'd risen a point in her estimation and just managed to keep himself from preening.

He took the card and glanced at it briefly before sliding it into his Mokeskin wallet and nodding at her. She busied herself with refilling his cup of tea- milk first- and sat back, regarding him with a shrewd look.

"I confess that I am surprised that Severus sought your help in narrowing down his choice of bride," she said at last. "Most long-time bachelors prefer the process to be intensely private."

"Severus and I are very old friends," said Lucius, savoring the delectable tea. "I suppose he feels beholden to me for giving him the initial push he needed."

"Perhaps," she said. "Or perhaps he's not really interested in the proceedings."

Lucius gave her in his most charming, affable expression. "Come now, Hermione. Have you ever known Severus to be openly enthusiastic about anything? Grumbling is how he expresses interest."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Malfoy. I am concerned that you are steering your friend through a process in which he is not invested for motives that are all too easily guessed."

Lucius was thoroughly annoyed that she had seen through his cover story so quickly, and he was determined to keep her from digging any deeper into his motivations. He didn't particularly care what the woman thought of him, as long as Severus was happy and she was out of his hair, and he felt no particular embarrassment over his disdain for the obviously inferior. Perhaps it might do her a bit of good to be reminded exactly how far in over her head she was.

"Hermione," he said taking the tone with which he would lecture a pampered pet who had soiled the carpet, "is it so difficult to believe that I might have reformed my opinions somewhat in the past twenty years?"

"Yes," she replied, her tone still friendly, but not without a hint of the fire Draco said smouldered beneath her serene facade. "Actions generally speak louder than words, Mr. Malfoy, and you have no Muggleborns and only a handful of those of mixed blood in your immediate social circle. While you have been known to donate to causes that do not discriminate based on blood status, you have never attended any of their social functions where there would be people of mixed heritage. Moreover, the only time you were unable to avoid encountering a Muggleborn in a social setting, you drank heavily, were intolerably rude, and embarrassed your son and his family."

So we were playing at frankness, were we? He knew that game. "It also ensured that everyone present would think twice before inviting you to any future functions," he said. "Don't let's make this conversation about my perceived attitudes when it's really about the limitations of your business model that you failed to take into consideration."

Her eyes sparkled, which made him wary. "My presence at your grandson's wedding had nothing to do with my business. I was there because Draco wanted me there, though apparently friendship wasn't his only motivation when he insisted that attend. He succeeded in tweaking your nose quite a bit, didn't he? I really ought to thank the two of you for making me an unavoidable topic of conversation. The only effect your tirade had on my business was to increase it fifteen percent."

Lucius crossed his legs indolently and sipped his tea. "So you admit that your aspirations to a social circle in which you are unwelcome are wholly mercenary?" His voice was mild and coaxing.

Hermione lowered her eyelids fractionally and gave him a pitying look. "Is it really so difficult for you to believe that I have absolutely no social interest in people of your ilk?"

"Actions speak loud than words," he reminded her, "and you have set yourself up in a business that depends on people of my 'ilk,' as you so charmingly put it. You require our custom in order to keep you in ostentatious shoes, antiques, and this ghastly office. You expect me to believe that you don't actively seek exposure to the very class your very existence exploits?"

She gave him measuring look for a moment, then a tight smile. "Mr. Malfoy, you incorrectly assume that this business is the only means I have of supporting myself. I do this work because I find it diverting and satisfying, not to make myself wealthy. Between my and my late husband's pensions and the licensing fees from the technologies I developed in my researching days, I don't need to work to afford the little luxuries I allow myself. In fact, as prejudice against Muggleborns dies along with its most virulent proponents, I am confident, nay hopeful, that this business will decline. I look forward to the day that I may close these doors for good."

Lucius managed to quiet the roar of triumph that was threatening to escape from his mouth. "So this isn't so much a business to you as the opportunity to expose poor, unenlightened Purebloods to your Muggleborn ingenuity and spunk in the hope that they will re-think their own superiority," he said, putting all the scorn he could muster into the statement.

The woman had the audacity to smile blithely at him. "If that's what some of my clients take with them from their experiences with me, who am I to judge?"

"Mrs. Weasley, you are either hopelessly naïve or indescribably narcissistic if you believe that mere exposure to yourself will change anybody's mind."

She didn't attempt to contradict him, thankfully, but opted to nibble delicately on a biscuit. "Have you ever considered remarrying, Lucius?" she asked suddenly.

"I barely escaped the bonds of matrimony with my estate intact the last time," said Lucius, slightly heady from the rush of forcing his formidable opponent to another topic. "Why on earth would I consider hobbling myself once more when there are so many agreeable extramarital opportunities?"

"Private companionship, for one," she said. "You may not have thought of this before sacrificing Severus on the altar of your plotting, but I iwill/i find him a wife who will please him beyond his wildest dreams. When that happens, your best friend will not be as available to you as he once was."

"My dear Mrs. Weasley," he countered with a confident smile, "I'm counting on that." He froze suddenly, realising that perhaps he'd given too much away, but the woman was looking at him with that confounded pitying look again.

"If you say so," she said doubtfully. "But if you should find yourself alone one evening when Severus is home with his family and doesn't have time to help you plot the downfall of someone else whose existence offends your sensibilities, I hope you will keep me in mind."

An image of himself sliding off one of her red boots flashed unbidden into his mind, but he dismissed it with a small shake of his head. "I beg your pardon?"

She made an impatient noise. "I meant my services as a marriage broker. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll see how Severus is doing."

Lucius tried not to be obvious while imagining how high up her boots went.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **© 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus spent the next fortnight in London interviewing and dining with prospective brides, and while the process was clearly exhausting, he dutifully wrote to Lucius about each encounter. Lucius grew very fond of the letters, which were written in Severus's characteristically acerbic manner. However, as entertaining as the romantic exploits were, he found himself keenly anticipating Severus's return.

It seemed to Lucius that Hermione had managed to goad Severus into choosing a balanced selection of professionals and ladies of leisure; those who had never married and those who were divorced; those who wanted no children, those who already had children, and those who wanted to have his. Severus seemed to find them all reasonably intelligent, though there was one fiasco involving a woman who Hermione had warned him was unsuitable but Severus insisted upon meeting, regardless. Lucius privately suspected that Severus was so keen to meet the lady in question because she bore an unmistakable resemblance to a young Minerva McGonagall, with whom Severus had been quite taken when he was sixteen.

Lucius was most anxious to hear about Severus's dinner with Grace Ling, which was to be on his final night in London. Apparently, there had been some trouble with getting a visitor's visa from the Ministry because she held dual American and Indonesian citizenship. Severus's morning owl had not yet arrived, and Lucius was beginning to wonder if something hadn't happened when there was a tap at the window, and he saw a post owl sitting on the patio rail with a letter.

Lucius wondered why Severus hadn't sent his own owl but gave the owl a piece of bacon for its trouble and opened the letter.

_Lucius,_

_I am reasonably pleased with Grace Ling. Expect us for lunch._

_S_

Lucius had to remind himself that raising one's eyebrows could exacerbate wrinkles. While he was used to his friend inviting himself for meals, he was slightly put out that Severus had invited someone else along without asking first. While he reread his friend's terse missive, another post owl flew in the door he had left ajar and landed on the arm of his chair. This owl was dispatched with another piece of bacon, and Lucius opened the second letter.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I apologise for contacting you so early in the day, but I have heard nothing from Severus or Grace Ling today, and the concierges at their hotels say that neither of them returned last night. If you have heard from Severus, please send an owl or Floo at your earliest convenience._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Weasley_

Lucius fully expected this letter to please him, given that his friend had clearly made a successful evening of it, but even knowing more than the widow did left him feeling oddly unsatisfied. He attributed this to the fact that his ultimate plan to pair off Severus and the Weasley woman had taken a turn towards the unexpected. However, he was confident that he would be able to ensure that Severus fell for Hermione and that he would soon be in Grace Ling's limber clutches. The first step, of course, would be to engineer a situation where Hermione would appear at her best advantage and Miss Ling would appear to her worst, and today's luncheon could provide an excellent opportunity. The only thing he needed to do was secure Hermione's presence, and her missive had provided him the perfect opportunity to do so.

However, there were several errands he needed to run before calling on Hermione. Lucius finished his tea and placed his thumb on the mantelpiece of the nearest fireplace. The flames turned green, and he stepped into them.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Lucius finally stepped through the hearth into Hermione's office, he found her facing the window, and she was talking to herself in a most disturbing way.

"No, there's no need to contact Scotland Yard," she said in an exasperated voice. "I don't even know for certain that they're missing. I'm simply trying to find out if anybody matching my friends' description spent the night in a cell. What? Then why on earth?"

Lucius cleared his throat.

Hermione spun to face him and gave a sigh when she saw who it was.

"Hang on," she said to the air, "I might have something. Have you heard from him, Lucius?"

Lucius was shocked to see a small piece of metal inside Hermione's ear that extended partway down her face along her cheekbone. "Yes. It seems that Severus and Miss Ling are quite bosom friends now and will be joining me for lunch."

Hermione's brows drew together at the news. "Never mind, James," she said to no-one present. "We've found them. No, you can throw away the report. What? That's fine. I don't care. Do what you like with it. All right. Thanks for your help. Love to Georgina and the twins. All right. Good bye." She pulled the metal piece from her face and cast it down upon her desk with something like relief. "I ought to have known that Severus would be at his most difficult when he wasn't trying to be."

Lucius surreptitiously examined the bit of metal. Its end flashed blue and had a hidden piece that fastened to the ear. Perhaps it was some kind of Muggle divinatory aid.

Hermione gestured for him to sit. "I'm glad you arrived when you did," she said, sinking into her chair. "James, the gentleman I was speaking to, is a former client of mine who works for the Muggle police. A kind soul, but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He would have had MI6out looking for Severus and Grace if he'd had his way."

"I didn't realize that you kept such close watch on your clients when they meet," he remarked.

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise," she said. "As careful as I am in screening, it's always possible for someone devious and determined to sneak in. The only reason I lost them at all is because Severus retains his talent for not being followed. Now, what's all this about them joining you for lunch?"

Lucius withdrew Severus's letter from his robe, and an amused smile spread across her face as she read. "'Reasonably pleased?' Such extravagant praise!"

"I shouldn't be surprised if he's asked her to marry him already," said Lucius, feeling even more put out than he had been. "Awfully sudden, don't you think?"

"It wouldn't be the fastest I've seen," she replied, "but unless they spent last night watching a meteor shower and innocently fell asleep on a hillock in the Cotswolds, they're moving much less cautiously than I would have expected of either of them."

For all that Lucius agreed with her about Severus, he felt his annoyance at her presumption flare to life. "Surely you give yourself too little credit," he said in his most condescending tones.

She ignored him and poked an object on her desk that was characterized by an ostentation of buttons. "Thank you for letting me know that Severus is alive and well," she said briskly to him before speaking into the object. "Milton, please bring me the Wiggins file when you have a moment." She looked at him, as if surprised to still find him there. "Did you need something else, Lucius?"

Lucius felt his face flush at her abrupt dismissal, and he had to take a moment to collect himself before responding rashly. He needed to play this one carefully. "Yes," he said, hardly needing to feign the disapproval in his voice. "You can tell me exactly who this succubus is that has absconded with my friend."

Hermione appeared unimpressed with his performance. "You've read her file," she returned coolly, "and I will not break my client's confidentiality to tell you more. I'm sure Grace will be more than willing to answer your questions over lunch. Will there be anything else? Because this business with Severus has put me frightfully behind schedule."

Lucius gritted his teeth at her dismissive tone. "There is one thing," he said in as apologetic a tone as he was able to muster. "The manor is unused to admitting guests of a more, shall we say, exotic background. Unless you are able to disclose Miss Ling's magical ancestry to me, she may run into problems at the gates that even Severus will be unable to fix."

To Lucius's satisfaction, the quill that was scratching over a piece of parchment stilled. "Severus doesn't care how much magical blood she has. Why should you?"

"I'm afraid my preferences have very little to do with it," said Lucius with artfully regretful sign. "The protections were put on the manor generations before I was born, and I only have so much power over them."

Her lips were tightly compressed. "You may have forgotten, but I've been to your manor. Unfortunately, nothing prevented my entry then."

"Of course nothing did," he said smoothly. "You may recall that at the time I had a rather insistent half-blood houseguest who was able to override the enchantments temporarily. It is not so easy these days."

"Severus is a half-blood," she pointed out.

"Then if Miss Ling is a half-blood, she won't have any trouble," he said, acting on a hunch.

Hermione graced him with a frown. "All right, Lucius, you win. She's Muggleborn. You'd have found it out from Severus anyway, especially if your gates attempted to give Grace any trouble. Now, I suggest that you do what needs to be done in order to admit her."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Hermione," said Lucius apologetically, exulting at her annoyance. "I've never had a Muggleborn visit the manor on a social call, and I have no idea how the gates will react to one."

Lucius could nearly see the wheels turning in Hermione's head. She knew he had no Muggleborn acquaintances, apart from her. She'd thrown it in his face. Now she'd have to pay the price. Her scowl darkened, and she pressed the object on her desk again. "Don't bother about the Wiggins file, Milton. Feel free to take an early lunch. Let's make this quick," she said in that damnable businesslike voice of hers. "And don't think that I won't charge you extra for this little escapade."

"I wouldn't dream of wasting your precious time if it weren't absolutely necessary," said Lucius, offering her his arm. He knew she'd refuse and found her scowl all the more charming because of it. Allowing her to go first also gave him the opportunity to notice that the backs of today's shoes were laced with black ribbon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What a pity that didn't work. Let's try once more, then, shall we?" called Lucius gaily from his vantage point atop the wall.

"Absolutely not," she replied, gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of her by the gates slamming shut as she attempted to enter the grounds. "Either the gates are smarter than you are, or you aren't really trying to fix the problem. Regardless of the cause, I've had enough."

"Come now, Mrs. Weasley," he said coaxingly, "do you really want the woman who fell in love with Severus at almost first sight to have a similar experience when she comes here for lunch?"

"If she does, I can hardly be blamed for it," declared Hermione, touching various parts of her body to ensure that they were still intact. "She will have learnt a hard lesson about dating men with prejudiced friends, and Severus will have learnt not to trust you to have his best interests at heart when it comes to romance. And now that you've had your fun, I'm going back to work." She began to walk toward the Apparation point.

Lucius scowled. Perhaps he had got a bit carried away. While he'd all but ensured that she'd receive a hard smack for her trouble, he still had no idea how the manor would respond to a welcome Muggleborn visitor. "Wait, Hermione," he called after her. She kept walking, and he gritted his teeth. "Please?"

She paused. "I'm told that 'please' is the most beautiful word in the world, but I must confess to be somewhat deaf to its charms. I really do prefer actions to words."

He sighed softly, not wishing to betray his annoyance at her perceptiveness, and slid gracefully to the ground. He waved his wand at the gates, attempting to imbue them with the temporary instructions to admit half-bloods and Muggleborns. The spell was old enough that it was as likely to work as anything else.

Hermione gave him a satisfied nod and took several tentative steps toward the gates. They began to creak shut as soon as she'd crossed the threshold of the grounds, but she had just sufficient time to pass through the closing halves. It was certainly a better result, but it was still more unfriendly than he'd like, and he'd kiss a working Herbologist's hand before admitting that his Manor was cleverer than he was.

She gave him a curt nod. "Right. She'll be able to enter and feel immediately unwelcome, thus preserving the dignity due your blood. Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius immediately regretted letting the gates have their way with her. He needed her to be present for lunch if he was to carry off the rest of his plan. "Wait," he commanded, only half aware that he was issuing orders. To his pleasant surprise, Hermione complied with only a modicum of eye-rolling. "I don't wish Severus to be immediately defensive on behalf of his new paramour."

"Of course not," said Hermione in a falsely sympathetic voice. "You'd rather they both let their guard down before you pull out the knives."

Lucius didn't bother to dignify her cheek with a retort. "I believe a book in my possession might contain the solution, if you would indulge me with a few more moments of your time." He pretended not to notice the way her breathing sped up at the word "book." Now he knew what the most beautiful word in the world was to her.

"Oh, I'll just wait out here, then, shall I?" she asked in an irritated voice.

He gave her a superior look. "I had thought that your researcher's eye might be helpful," he sniffed. "Unless, of course, retirement has dulled your analytical abilities."

He watched her warring instincts with amusement. No know-it-all worth her salt would be able to resist having a look at the infamous Malfoy library. Only an irredeemable Gryffindor would let a little thing like utter distrust keep her from her heart's desire. "My retirement has required far more analytical skills than my career in research," she retorted. "If telling you how your manor works is the only way I can guarantee that Grace will have warmer welcome into Pureblood society, a contradiction in terms, if you ask me, then I suppose it's a small sacrifice to make."

"You are too kind," said Lucius, with a little bow for effect, and gestured for her to follow him up the stairs to the front door.

"I'll also have learnt how to break into the manor," she muttered darkly.

"Promises, promises," said Lucius airily, holding open the front door for her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

If Severus was surprised to find Lucius and Hermione together in the library arguing over blood magic, he betrayed not a whit of it. Instead, he cleared his throat and placed his hand on the small of Grace's back. Lucius had seen them enter, and Hermione's comical double-take made him glad he hadn't said anything.

Grace was everything her photograph and file had promised. She looked even more petite standing next to Severus, but her tiny body was perfectly proportioned, from slender calves to pert breasts. Her black hair was pulled back from her heart-shaped face, which emphasised her ageless skin and sparkling brown eyes. For all that she wore rather dull silver flats, her diaphanous robes of purple and midnight blue were lovely, and the fabric was shot through with silver thread. Her robes skimmed the floor and were cut generously enough for modesty, but their translucence left little to the imagination. She moved with sinuous economy, and Lucius was suddenly aware that he should greet them.

"Severus! Miss Ling, I presume? A thousand apologies for failing to greet you. Mrs. Weasley was kind enough to help me with a technical problem."

"I had noticed that the gates were unusually docile, commented Severus. "I expect we have you to thank for that, Hermione. Lucius never bothered with them on my account."

"You give me too much credit, Severus," she said. "I wouldn't have been able to do much if Mr. Malfoy hadn't opened his library to me. I'm afraid I lost track of time. I'll leave you to your lunch."

"You'll do no such thing," said Lucius, absently smoothing the cover of an ancient illuminated manuscript that he suspected Hermione would sell her last tin of Assam to examine. "You've been a great help to me this morning, Mrs. Weasley, and I would be most offended if you did not join us."

Lucius could not help but admire the effort she expended forcing her hungry gaze from the beautiful book. "That's very generous of you, Mr. Malfoy, but I really must be going. Don't bother calling your elf. I can find my way out."

Lucius suddenly remembered Milton's comment that Hermione did not approve of house elf servitude and summoned a suitably crestfallen expression. "What a shame," he said sadly. "I took the liberty of telling the elves there will be four for lunch, and I do so hate to see their efforts go to waste."

Hermione's shoulders tensed, Severus's eyes narrowed, and Lucius suppressed a smirk. He put his hands on her back as if to help her off with her outer robe. "Do join us, Hermione," he coaxed. "I'm sure Miss Ling would appreciate having a friend present," he added in her ear.

She allowed him to assist her. "I suppose I could go in tomorrow to finish."

"Excellent!" said Lucius heartily. "If you will all join me on the terrace. The elves will begin serving us shortly."

He wondered how many times he could get away with dropping his serviette in order to examine Hermione's tantalising footwear.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **© 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus had no idea what Lucius was planning, but he knew that there was a plan and that it was very unlikely to include earnest civility toward the two Muggleborns. From the moment he and Grace had stepped through the gates, which had admitted them without protest, Severus knew he would need to be on his guard. Certainly Hermione's presence, which Lucius had forced with obvious tactics that would only work once on the clever woman, indicated that Lucius's plotting would likely come to fruition during their lunch.

Lucius's first shot across the bow was the elegant table that awaited them on the terrace. There must have been two dozen pieces of cutlery and five glasses at each place. Even Severus, who had dined at the manor for decades, had never seen some of the obscure pieces of silver and bone that surrounded the china and crystal. He'd never seen this set of china, either, which surprised him with its understated handsomeness. It was far more modern than any he'd seen at the manor, which made him wonder if Lucius hadn't purchased entirely new dishes and tableware so the Muggleborns wouldn't sully his best.

Severus caught Hermione looking at the place settings through narrowed eyes, but to his surprise she allowed Lucius to seat her without comment. Lucius, damn the man, was eyeing Grace in a way that would make anyone nervous. He'd done his best to prepare Grace for what could happen, but a plotting Lucius was an unpredictable Lucius.

Fortunately, both Muggleborns seated themselves without the looks of panic that lesser witches would have betrayed upon surveying the expanse of gleaming cutlery. Grace even managed to give a small smile, and Severus marvelled yet again at her unflappability and loveliness. He hoped that her nervous silence would give way soon, and that his friend, too, would be won over, if not by her charm, than by the toughness that her delicate-looking exterior belied. However, Lucius had already "dropped" his serviette twice, which didn't bode well for anybody.

At length, Lucius spoke. "Miss Ling," he said in a warm voice, "I am delighted to make your acquaintance. You have made quite an impression on my dear friend, and I wish you both the greatest happiness." He raised his water glass in salute.

Grace darted a glance at Hermione, and the two shared a look of understanding. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Grace replied. "Severus has told me about you, and I thought he'd exaggerated your charms. But I don't think he did at all."

Lucius preened visibly before demurring and gave the tiniest nod of approval, which Severus assumed was for his benefit. "Please, call me Lucius. All my friends do, and I do hope that we will be friends, Miss Ling."

The slightest movement of Hermione's shoulders indicated that she was stifling a cough. Fortunately, neither Grace nor Lucius noticed it.

"I hope so," said Grace. She still sounded cautious, which was the correct response when Lucius was at his most charming.

"So, tell me about yourself, Miss Ling," said Lucius. "I hear you're something of an entertainer. That must be endlessly diverting."

Grace launched into her life story, albeit a version with far fewer details than the version she'd given him, which made Severus inordinately pleased. Lucius also seemed to be behaving himself, and exclaiming "oh!" and "how marvellous!" at appropriate times. When Grace finished describing the circus arts school where she taught, the first course arrived.

"I hope you will forgive my elves' attempt at reproducing the cuisine of your youth," said Lucius.

Severus felt his stomach drop when the lid of the salver that had been placed in front of Grace was raised to reveal a steaming pile of scaly, pointed feet. They must have originated from some kind of bird or reptile, and the ridged skin looked like rubber. Hermione, who looked as revolted as he felt, glared darkly at their host. Lucius, however, smiled charmingly at Grace, who beamed back at him.

"They smell delicious," said Grace, spooning herself several. "Just like home. I can hardly wait to try them."

"Then by all means, eat," said Lucius, taking the salver from her. "Please don't wait on our account."

Grace passed the salver to Lucius and picked up one of the dreadful-looking things with the set of bone chopsticks that lay between the salad and fish forks and popped it into her mouth. She gave an appreciative, close-mouthed smile, which she covered charmingly with her hand, and began to chew.

Severus chanced a direct glance at Lucius, who was watching the proceedings with a polite smile. Hermione, on the other, was clearly trying to stifle a grimace.

"Mmm!" Grace hummed contentedly, spitting three knuckle bones into her fingers and placing them on the edge of her plate. A few seconds later, all the bones from the foot were on the plate, and she was dabbing her lips daintily with her serviette. "Your elves did a very good job, Lucius," she said. "I haven't had chicken feet like that in years!"

"I'm delighted you enjoyed them," said Lucius. "Won't you have more?"

At that point, Grace seemed to notice that Lucius had not taken any for himself and that Hermione was looking slightly green around the edges. Damn Lucius for putting her in this situation!

Grace covered the pile of bones on her plate with her serviette. "Thank you, but I-"

"Then pass them here," said Severus gruffly, grabbing the salver and serving himself a foot. Clearly, the tendons and skin were what one was supposed to eat, but his stomach lurched at the idea of putting the whole thing into his mouth. Instead, he picked up an oyster fork and fish knife and methodically dissected the foot, shoving all the bones to the edge of the plate. He scraped all the connective tissue into a pile and delivered it to his mouth with a demitasse spoon that he suspected would not see use. The bite was chewy, but not wholly unpleasant to taste.

Hermione was looking at him in fascinated though slightly disgusted awe. The corners of Grace's eyes crinkled with amusement at his performance. He felt his shoulders relax infinitesimally. Grace refused to be embarrassed, despite Lucius's valiant attempt. The man himself had launched into the amusing anecdote about the Ministry official and the centaur that he always told to distract dowagers from attempting to set him up with their unmarried daughters at his social events. Severus discreetly closed the salver of chicken feet, which disappeared along with the plates of bones, and bowls of soup appeared noiselessly before them.

To Severus's relief, the bowls contained a thick onion soup that looked wholly European. He gratefully raised his soup spoon and took a bite. The broth was delicious and rich. Clearly, some quite decent brandy had gone into it. He nodded at both ladies, and they followed his lead before Lucius had delivered the punch line.

The ladies laughed, Grace with genuine amusement, and Hermione with politeness, and Hermione had clearly decided that sometimes onion soup was simply onion soup. Throughout the soup course, Lucius peppered Grace with questions about her family and the school where she taught, and she flushed with pleasure at his interest. He also feigned dropping his napkin again for reasons that Severus couldn't even begin to fathom. However, as the level of soup in Grace's bowl dropped, her face became redder. It wasn't until she dropped her spoon with a clatter that Severus realized what Lucius had done.

Lucius must have spiked the soup with brandy just prior to serving, which meant that the soup had aggravated the sensitivity to alcohol that was common among Asians. Hermione seemed to have realized this at the same time. "Lucius," she said lightly, discreetly handing Grace her glass of water. "I think a bit of bread would go very well with this soup, don't you?"

"Merlin forbid," said Lucius. "Bread is rarely seen in the best houses nowadays. Less bread and more taxes are all the rage."

"Lucius," growled Severus, who was in no mood for Lucius's fop act, "if you do not provide us with proper English fare that has been properly prepared immediately, you will regret it."

"Now, Severus, there's no need to vex yourself," said Lucius soothingly. "The elves are putting the finishing touches on something indisputably English. I'm terribly sorry the soup wasn't to your taste. Narcissa always encouraged the elves to be somewhat free-handed with the cognac."

Grace, whose whole face had gone flaming red, glared at him through narrowed, watery eyes. "Your apology is accepted in the spirit that it was given," she said with perfect civility.

"You are too gracious, madam," said Lucius, clapping his hands gently. A basket of crusty bread appeared, and the women took one slice each. Severus was pleased to see that both ladies chose the appropriate knife; no small feat, since Lucius had laid out both left-handed and right-handed butter knives amidst an array of fruit, fish, and steak knives.

Lucius was watching them with only the tiniest expression of disappointment. Severus tried to catch his eye, but Lucius deliberately turned from him to engage Hermione in idle chatter about his grandsons.

Severus slid his hand under the table and squeezed Grace's hand. She gave him a slightly crooked smile and squeezed back. He gave a small sigh of relief. She would be fine. She'd be better than fine once she had a proper handle on Lucius. He wholly expected this to take some time, but he was startled a few moments later when Grace's mellow voice made a comment that was clearly intended to be overheard.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Ling," said Lucius. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing important, Lucius," said Grace, giving a gamine bat of the eyelashes that Severus knew he would be powerless to resist when directed at him, "I was merely expressing my surprise that you were unmarried. It seems like a terrible waste."

"Many others would agree," he said, sighing dramatically. "But I'm afraid I've rather got used to the bachelor lifestyle. It suits me far better the second time around."

"I and many others are delighted to hear it," said Hermione, taking a sip of water.

"Really?" asked Severus. "Given the popularity of Crups, I would think there were any number of witches with a penchant for housebreaking ill-mannered pets."

Grace giggled.

Lucius gave Severus a charming smile. "It seems to me that most aspiring pet owners are not looking for a companion so much as something to fuss over and teach to respond to commands. It's a role to which certain breeds are ill-suited, though it may do well enough for a creature incapable of seeing to its own needs."

"Domesticated animals are bred to be dependent upon their owners," observed Hermione. "I'm afraid the comparison is not entirely apt."

"On the contrary, Mrs. Weasley," said Lucius, "I find it very apt indeed. In less enlightened times, witches were taught to be entirely dependent on their husbands, socially and financially, and one need only look at a Muggle newspaper to see that the loathsome custom has persisted even more stubbornly in the Muggle world than in the Magical one. But even in our modern times, marriages are still hobbled by these ancient traditions. As I have no desire to be someone's master or someone's dog, I shall be content to be my own master, responding only to the commands I wish and enduring only the fussing that I choose."

While Severus disagreed with his friend's characterisation of marriage, he couldn't help but admire the friendly, almost light-hearted tone in which it was expressed. Grace seemed off-balance once more, which Severus supposed had been Lucius's intent. Hermione, on the other hand, answered in kind.

"I find myself torn between amusement that one from such an old family as yours holds such a dim view of traditional marriage roles and horror at your cynicism."

"Cynical it may be, but not incorrect," said Lucius, offering Hermione another piece of bread.

She waved off the basket, but looked at it thoughtfully for a moment. "When I go into a shop to buy bread, the transaction is considered fair and equitable despite the fact that the baker has more bread than I do. Similarly, a marriage can still be equal if its participants are not evenly matched in all ways."

"What you have described is a very specific and well-defined business transaction," said Lucius. "A marriage is not so simple."

"Some would argue that marriage is an amalgam of equally well-defined exchanges," responded Hermione mildly.

"Regardless, your example is entirely too simplistic. What if your baker started nagging you to buy the expensive bread instead of your usual loaf? You would simply take your business elsewhere."

"Possibly," conceded Hermione, "but if I'd chosen an excellent bakery, it would be hard to find another good enough to make the change worth it. I would also consider that perhaps the baker was making the recommendation because he thought I'd like the expensive bread more, not simply to make money. And if it turned out not to be the case, I'd simply ignore the nagging unless it turned out to be part of a bigger problem."

"Such as if you walked in one day to find the bakery closed because he'd run off with another customer?" asked Lucius, in velvety tones that made Severus tense.

Hermione shrugged. "Any social contract means compromising one's freedom, which creates a risk for both parties. Any time I buy bread, I choose to give the baker money rather than counterfeit currency or simply walk out without paying. For his part, the baker chooses to sell me bread that's made with flour and yeast, rather than something cheaper that could also poison me. Any number of horrible things might happen, and it would be tragic if it did. But I'm not going to stop buying bread simply because something awful might happen."

"And when was the last time you bought bread, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Lucius, who was casually buffing his fingernails on the sleeve of his robe.

Severus pursed his lips in disapproval. Lucius must be very off balance to make a direct attack on Hermione. Grace had also gone very still.

He was relieved when Hermione gave Lucius a sunny smile. "Two decades more recently than you have, Mr. Malfoy," she said briskly. "And I am simply up to my elbows in dough. I am in no hurry to form an exclusive business arrangement. I think we both understand the price of bread, these days. Perhaps it's just that I have a more generous notion of its value."

Lucius turned from Hermione to Grace and gave her a conspiratorial smile. "I don't know about you, but I would value something a bit more fun than bread."

Severus was pleased to see that his scowl was superfluous since Grace was proving to be a master of noncommittal smiles. "I should be most interested to hear what you have in mind."

"The next course, naturally," said Lucius so earnestly that Severus knew it was meant to discomfit anyone at the table who'd perceived his flirtation for what it was. Fortunately, after the most recent discussion, both women seemed inured to Lucius's attempts.

Plates of cold chicken salad appeared before them, and they began to eat. Severus was relieved that there appeared to be nothing in this course to embarrass or sicken Grace. Her face was still red, but it was less bright than it had been. Hermione, he noticed, was watching Lucius with a very close eye, and Lucius was content to pretend he didn't notice. They ate their food in silence for a few minutes, and Severus had the distinct feeling that this was the calm before Lucius's next offensive.

Grace caught his eye, and he felt his stomach tighten to see a glimmer of mischief. He sighed, and rolled his eyes heavenward, which he knew Grace would take for the approval that it was.

"That was delicious, Lucius" said Grace, once she had finished her salad.

"I'm delighted you enjoyed it, Miss Ling. It was one of my mother's favourite dishes to serve at outdoor luncheons."

The blandly polite response was clearly an invitation to change topics, which Grace did with a deferential bob of her head before addressing Hermione.

"Hermione, I can't thank you enough for introducing me to Severus," said Grace. "We've known each other for less than a day, and already it's clear to me that we are well matched."

Severus didn't say anything, but he allowed his face to reflect the pleasure he felt at her statement. He and Grace had discussed marriage lying in bed that morning, and he was pleased by the confirmation that Grace was, like him, not one to indulge in idle pillow talk.

"There's no need to thank me, Grace," said Hermione, "though I am glad you're pleased. It is very gratifying to see two people of whom I think highly happy together."

"I imagine a job like yours is full of satisfaction of that sort," said Grace.

"It can be," said Hermione. "Frankly, not all of my clients are looking for the sorts of relationships that will make them happy, and in such cases, all I can do is find them someone else whose goals are in line with theirs."

"Gold diggers," said Severus dismissively.

"There will always be those, as well as older men who want beautiful young wives," agreed Hermione.

"Do you get repeat business from the beautiful young wives once they are no longer young?" asked Severus.

Lucius tapped his wand on his white wine glass, and all the similar glasses on the table were filled. "Only if their late husbands provided generously for them, I should think," drawled Lucius.

Severus found the comment to be rather gauche, but Grace piped up before Hermione could respond.

"What about sugar daddies who later realize they want more than a pretty face?" she asked.

"I doubt such men exist," said Lucius. "A wealthy man who wishes to surround himself with beauty is unlikely to change when interested beauties are in such ready supply."

"You'd be surprised how many wealthy men are able to make their own definitions of beauty more inclusive once they themselves have been abandoned for someone younger," said Hermione acerbically. "I daresay it's an overdue lesson in many cases."

Severus went very still. Hermione couldn't possibly have known the details of Lucius's divorce. Had Narcissa not made her offer to wait a year before marrying her younger paramour in exchange for a publicly amicable mutual separation behind a closed door in his vicinity, even Severus wouldn't have known.

"Perhaps they'd be more able to maintain their partner's fidelity if they had cultivated talents other than accumulating wealth," observed Lucius.

"Such as a Machiavellian disdain for marriage?" asked Grace.

Severus blinked in surprise. His cat had delightfully sharp claws. Hermione sat up straighter in her chair. Lucius betrayed no response other than adopting a bored and condescending tone of voice.

"Conversation, for one," he said. "Developing interests beyond the business sphere, or a talent for pleasing one's partners. Keeping oneself fit. Any number of things, really."

Grace gave a small cough. It wasn't a loud cough or a derisive cough, merely a neutrally interrogative cough that clearly asked how well that strategy had worked for Lucius.

Severus was both gratified and sympathetic to see the superior expression fall from Lucius's face. He was master of himself enough not to flush or frown, but clearly the cough had hit its mark. Severus kept his own expression neutral, but he couldn't bring himself to feel too bad for his friend. Lucius had brought this upon himself, and Severus was savagely proud that Grace had managed to turn the tables when Lucius wasn't expecting it, simply by reading his body language.

Hermione's eyes widened as she caught the implications of their nonverbal communication and she cleared her throat. "Lucius is entirely right that if partners would put more effort into pleasing their spouses, far fewer marriages would end in divorce," said Hermione diplomatically, laying her salad fork in the centre of her plate. "But sometimes after years of having and raising children, some partners find that they have grown apart but were too busy to notice it happening, and that can't really be blamed on one partner's shortcomings."

Lucius's expression darkened. The defence was clearly unwelcome.

"If they had been truly equal partners along the way, they wouldn't have grown apart," said Lucius shortly. "They would have grown in the same direction. And this is why, my dear Hermione, your bakery analogy can only represent the sort of role-bound union that I find anathema. Buying bread cannot be symbolic of an equal marriage unless the customer occasionally makes bread for the baker."

"A marriage is made up of two different people," responded Hermione, "and no two people react to things the same way. And I don't agree that a couple must share everything in order for it to be an equal marriage. Personally, I can't stand cooking, but Ron was very good at it."

"Did it not bother you that he had sole dominion over nourishing your family?" asked Lucius, with uncharacteristic intensity.

Severus frowned. What on earth was Lucius talking about? Whatever it was, Severus sincerely doubted that it had anything to do with cooking.

Fortunately, Hermione seemed to understand Lucius's question and answered in kind. "Of course it didn't," she said. "In fact, playtime with the children while Daddy made supper was one of my favourite times of day."

Lucius mulled this over for a moment. "You were fortunate that your situation allowed you that time with them," he said at last, his bland façade firmly in place. He placed his own fork in the centre of his plate, and a new plate, roast lamb and julienned carrots, appeared before them.

Severus was still trying to determine what had upset him when Lucius broke the silence that had descended upon the arrival of the lamb.

"Tell me, Mrs. Weasley. What sort of wife would you choose for me?" The question could have caused another round of argument, but for the good humour with which it was asked. The whole table seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

"I wouldn't presume to choose," said Hermione loftily.

"Surely you still appreciate an academic exercise?" asked Severus.

The corner of Hermione's mouth was twitching upward. "It's true, finding the right partner for one of the defiantly single is a task in which some marriage brokers take particular pleasure. However, I feel too responsible for my clients, even the gold-diggers, to risk them having their hearts broken by Mr. Malfoy."

"I say, Mrs. Weasley, that's hardly generous," protested Lucius, clearly unoffended and welcoming a return to lighter discussion.

"Well, it shows more business acumen to be more generous to those who have already retained my services than to one who has sworn not to, don't you agree?"

Lucius's grey eyes were shining. "All this talk of gold-diggers has fundamentally aroused my curiosity. Mrs. Weasley, would you do me the honour of finding me a wife?"

"You are fortunate that your library can provide me with suitable payment," she replied easily. "I should never take you on, otherwise. Very well, Mr. Malfoy. You shall have a wife."

"That's all?" he asked in mock surprise. "No lengthy private interview? Dear me, how am I to be convinced that you'll find someone suitable?"

"My dear Mr. Malfoy," she said with a surprisingly winsome smirk, "just what do you think our earlier conversation accomplished?"

"Touché," replied Lucius, raising his glass in salute.

She acknowledged it with a tilt of the head. "Now, Severus, what are your and Grace's plans for the immediate future?"

"We are to be married once we have determined whose country is more generous to foreign spouses," said Severus. "We are fortunate enough to live in an age of instantaneous communication, and I will be able to conduct my business affairs from anywhere in the world."

"Splendid!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Yes, splendid," echoed Lucius. "Are you planning to keep the vicarage?"

"I doubt it," said Severus. "Even if we end up living in England, Grace will need to be close to an international Portkey station in order to visit her parents often. We'll live in London, I expect. I've been selfish to keep the house for as long as I have, knowing that you have three grandsons who may wish to settle near the Manor."

"I am glad to hear it," said Lucius. "I hope you will join me in drinking to your happiness. Miss Ling, you'll find that your glass contains grape juice and not wine."

They toasted and drank, and Grace was surreptitious enough about sniffing the contents of her glass before drinking that even Lucius couldn't find fault. In fact, Lucius's behaviour for the rest of the meal was so exemplary and charming that Severus dismissed the niggling suspicion that Lucius was still upset about something.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **© 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two weeks later, Lucius's excellent luncheon of halibut and _haricots vertes_ was interrupted when Severus burst into the dining room looking even more agitated than he had the night before He to Whom References Ought Not Be Made had been destroyed.

"Severus!" exclaimed Lucius, placing his serviette on the table and rising. "To what do I owe-"

"She's gone!" Severus exclaimed. "I left her for three hours to see to some business, and she wasn't waiting at the restaurant where we were to meet. I telephoned her hotel, and there's no sign of her."

"I'm sorry," said Lucius, ushering Severus into a chair and summoning tea, "we are discussing Miss Ling, are we not?"

"Of course we're discussing Miss Ling!" exclaimed Severus angrily. "Who else could we possibly be discussing?"

"Severus, kindly calm yourself," said Lucius sternly. "Barking at me isn't going to make Miss Ling re-appear."

He stilled at this and accepted the cup of tea Lucius offered him. "I don't understand it," he said at last. "We had planned to marry this afternoon."

Lucius looked coolly at his friend. "Congratulations."

Severus had the grace to look slightly chagrined. "We didn't tell anybody, not even her family. We wanted it to be something between the two of us."

"I see," said Lucius blandly. "Perhaps the lady developed an acute case of cold feet."

Severus began to look angry again. "I cannot, I _will not_ believe that of her."

"Come now, Severus. You were the one who always regaled me with your pithy philosophical observations, such as the one claiming that the simplest answer is the most likely to be true. What is more likely, for a forty-year-old woman who has never married to become nervous after having only known her intended for a fortnight, or for a gang of miscreants to abduct her?"

Severus's face had gone even paler than usual. "You don't understand, Lucius. You don't know her the way I do."

"Not for lack of trying, I assure you," said Lucius with a smirk. "Were you aware that your fiancée has some skill with martial arts?"

Severus smiled with both rows of teeth. "It's a set of skills I've yet to explore," he replied. "She did mention that she'd had to put you down with a firm hand. I do hope you weren't too badly bruised."

"Nothing that the balm you gave me last Christmas couldn't heal," said Lucius lightly. "Now, what can I do to help locate your missing miss?"

"I've already notified Hermione of Grace's disappearance, but I'd be much obliged if you could arrange for a discreet inquiry with the Aurors."

"Consider it done, old friend," said Lucius, summoning a sheet of parchment and a quill. "They weighed her wand when she entered the country. They'll have placed a trace on it within minutes of receiving my owl. We'll be notified where and when she uses it next."

Severus paced back and forth while Lucius composed his letter, and continued even when Lucius's fastest owl had left with it.

"Won't you join me for lunch, Severus? You must be famished by now."

Severus sighed and sat heavily down in his customary seat. "That fish does look excellent."

A plate of food appeared before Severus, and he began to eat appreciatively.

"I don't know what my elves shall do without your extravagant praise to motivate them," said Lucius. "Meals are always more enjoyable when you are present."

"If you expect me to come regularly again, you're going to have to do something about Grace. She hasn't forgiven you that fiasco of a luncheon two weeks ago."

"It's probably for the best," said Lucius. "The gates are up to their old tricks again, and I should hate for her to be injured. As for her disappearance, the Aurors will do their job. If Miss Ling wants to be found, we will find her."

Severus frowned. "She wants to be found," he said. "I know the woman, Lucius. She wouldn't simply run away."

"It's true that, Miss Ling shows extraordinary strength in her convictions," said Lucius, "but you must admit, she seems to have formed an attachment with remarkable haste."

"What the devil is that supposed to mean?" asked Severus. "She's not the only one who's attached."

"I don't mean to sound condescending, Severus, but you haven't had a great deal of practice falling in love in the past decades. It's not really all that surprising that you would be enamoured of such a delightful woman. But I've suspected for some time that Grace Ling is not as dedicated to the idea of marriage as you are, and this simply confirms my suspicion. Why else would she disappear so close to an important event that only you two knew about?"

"Leaving aside your overbearing condescension toward me, how dare you presume to know my own fiancée better than I do?" snarled Severus. "I haven't the foggiest notion what Grace finds attractive in me, but I will give her the benefit of my self-doubt and take her promises at face value."

"I was simply sharing what I observed, Severus. You shoot the owl for the message he carries."

"Thank you for your frank assessment and for contacting the Aurors on my behalf," said Severus icily, "but the subject of my fiancée is closed."

Lucius sat back in his chair and examined the contents of his glass, a white burgundy that set the flavourful fish off to perfection. "Do not think that I miss the irony in my distrust of Miss Ling when I fought so hard for her inclusion in your top choices."

"We had motives then that were very different from our motives now," said Severus, "unless, of course you're still trying to ruin Hermione."

"While having her at my mercy would certainly be appealing, I am much more concerned with the future happiness of my best and oldest friend."

"Lucius," began Severus warningly.

"Very well, Severus. Name your proof. What evidence will it take for you to realize that Grace Ling is not the woman to whom you should attach your future hopes of happiness?"

"There is no proof that you could bring to me that I would believe to be genuine, nothing you can say to sway me, and nothing you can do to force me to leave Grace."

"I see," said Lucius mildly.

Severus looked at him suspiciously. "That's all you're going to say?"

"Of course. You've made yourself perfectly clear. Would you care for potatoes?"

"No, I don't care for potatoes," he snapped. "Are you really going to leave it without offering some outlandish proof of Grace's infidelity?"

"Would proof of infidelity sway you?"

Severus scowled. "No, it wouldn't!"

"Then offering proof would serve no purpose," said Lucius. "Your hands are shaking, dear man. You must have more to eat."

"You're bluffing."

"Not at all, there's still at least two good pieces of halibut left."

Severus made an exasperated noise. "I mean, you don't really have any sort of proof against Grace. If you did, you would come out and say it."

Lucius took a sip of wine. "It seems to me that the harder I fight against Miss Ling, the more adamant you become in her defence. You've already said that no proof I could give you would convince you. Why is it surprising to you that I'm choosing not to fight a battle I cannot win?"

Severus sulkily ate the rest of his fish and haricots and regarded Lucius with a suspicious eye.

"All right, Lucius. What's wrong with her?"

"There's nothing fundamentally wrong with her. It's just that I don't think she will be suited to the demands of marriage."

"Poppycock!" exclaimed Severus. "The woman is nothing if not flexible."

"But do you not occasionally find her too accommodating?"

Severus seemed to give this some thought, but then he pursed his lips. "No, Lucius. We express ourselves in different ways, certainly but-"

"You're quite right," interrupted Lucius. "Forget I said anything."

They drank their tea in silence for a few moments.

"What makes you so sure that that Grace's little capitulations are problematic to me?"

Lucius hid a smile behind a sip of tea. "It's only obvious, my dear man. It seems to me that you want a woman with a stiffer spine. Someone with fire and spirit. Someone with similar interests. Someone like- Hermione!" he exclaimed, seeing the woman appear in the doorway of the dining room. "What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe-"

"Severus, would you mind leaving me and Lucius for a few minutes?" Her usually well-groomed hair had come lose from its pins, and wild curls framed the furious look on her face. The fire in her eyes was so arresting that Lucius almost missed the charming snub-toed court shoes she wore. They had delicious ankle straps held in place by a golden button and made her small feet look even more petite.

Severus took in Hermione's barely-suppressed fury and gave Lucius a gloating look. "I'm sure you'll find Lucius quite accommodating," he said, biting off the consonants of his final word. He took his cup and saucer and strode off in the direction of the library.

"May I offer you a glass of wine, Mrs. Weasley? Or perhaps some tea?" asked Lucius, gesturing for Hermione to sit. "I've requested Assam today. It's fortunate I forewent my usual blend, as I seem to recall that you don't care for Keemun."

Hermione blinked in surprise, suddenly disarmed, and Lucius fought to keep the satisfaction off his face. "Tea," she said at last.

"Excellent. You take no sugar, I presume?"

"Only the least bit of milk, but don't-" she cut off abruptly as Lucius correctly anticipated her request to add the tea to the milk. He handed the cup to her with a polite smile, and she inhaled the fragrant tea before taking a tentative sip.

"This is excellent," she said seriously. "It's been so long since I had Assam by itself that I'd quite forgotten how wonderful it could be."

"Not all purity is worthy of suspicion," said Lucius lightly. "Now, please tell me what it is that has upset you."

She gave him a wry smile. "I believe you can guess."

"Severus might have mentioned something about a disappearing fiancée before biting my head off, yes."

"Well, it just so happens that I've located her."

Now it was Lucius's turn to blink with surprise. "Really?" he asked. "You must notify Severus! Why on earth did you send him away?"

"Because it's not quite as simple as all that. You see, Grace is in a Muggle prison."

"Dear me, did someone make the mistake of picking a fight with her?"

"It seems that there was an anonymous phone call to the police about someone who matched her description acting suspiciously. She was stopped for questioning, after which she was taken to a high-security prison, where she is only allowed to speak to a solicitor. All of her belongings, including her wand, were taken from her, and by my estimate, it's going to take nearly a week to get her out, unless the Minister of Magic intervenes."

Lucius tutted. "How utterly unpleasant. I presume you are telling me this because you need me to ask the Minister to handle things discreetly? It would be my pleasure."

"One moment, Mr. Malfoy. I've not even reached the interesting part of the story. It seems that the reason Grace was taken to a high-security prison is because she has a police record. She hasn't committed any crimes, of course, but there was a missing persons report filed on her. Perhaps you recall that it was the morning of that horrid lunch and the conversation you overheard between me and my policeman friend? Well, it seems that the report coupled with the report of suspicious activity and her Indonesian citizenship, was enough to detain her until her business in this country can be determined."

"A most unfortunate set of circumstances," said Lucius.

"It would seem that way. However, I couldn't wrap my brain around the idea that someone had anonymously reported her for suspicious behaviour."

"Perhaps she discouraged a potential suitor too emphatically," commented Lucius.

Hermione looked hard at Lucius. "I'm beginning to think that's exactly what happened. I spoke with my former client, James, the policeman, and asked him to look up the details of the anonymous call. He couldn't tell me much, but he did tell me that the anonymous call came from the outskirts of London, a place that I know for a fact Grace has never been."

"How very mysterious."

"It was then that I recalled the advice of a book I read years ago: if you eliminate all possibilities but one, the one that remains, no matter how unlikely, is the truth."

"Biscuit?"

"Sorry?"

"I was offering you a biscuit to go with your tea," said Lucius, holding out a tray for her. "The ginger biscuits go particularly well with Assam."

"This is very attractive china," said Hermione. "This is from the same set that that was used at that awful lunch, isn't it?"

"You're very observant," he said.

"I only noticed because I've seen the pattern before," said Hermione, who wasn't nearly as good at concealing her triumph as she thought she was. "I nearly bought it from the Muggle antique shop in Barnes that I told you about. I gave you the owner's card."

"I confess it, you have caught me!" exclaimed Lucius. "It's quite shocking of me to have become so enamoured of Muggle antiques. I shall never live it down amongst the purebloods. I find myself and my secret quite at your mercy, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione ignored him. "So now we have a connection between you and the outskirts of London, the source of our anonymous call."

"I find it difficult to believe that my few visits to Barnes to procure porcelain and cutlery are of any statistical importance."

"The importance became clear when I spoke with Kate Dyson, the owner of the store, who recalls having numerous pleasant conversations with you on the subject of an elderly uncle of yours. However, both you and I know that no such uncle exists."

"I am hardly the first person to invent a convenient acquaintance in order to carry on a conversation with someone with whom one has little in common. Some people have made entire careers out of it."

"Certainly your elderly uncle who grew up in the wilds of Zanzibar without modern conveniences is a most useful invention, since Kate gave you a great deal of advice on instructing him to use Muggle technology, such as the telephone, the library, and the internet."

"Mrs. Dyson does go on," said Lucius.

"Now, I thought that was rather interesting," said Hermione. "But it wasn't nearly as interesting as what I found out at the library down the street."

"One can find a great many things at a library," commented Lucius blandly, knowing all too well where this was going.

"That's very true," said Hermione, sipping her tea. "In fact, today I discovered that a gentleman matching your description flirted shamelessly with all the librarians during his research project on public marriage records."

"Librarians are an over-imaginative sort," said Lucius. "I'm certain they were mistaken, or perhaps dazzled by your description of me."

"I would like to believe that, Lucius," said Hermione with false regret, "but given that you overheard my conversation with James about Grace's missing persons report, have been to Barnes on multiple occasions, and are now conversant enough with Muggle technology to find out that Severus and Grace had received a marriage licence, there is only one conclusion to be drawn."

Lucius did his utmost to maintain his unaffected façade, but he was impressed that the woman had figured it out so quickly. If he'd known that telephone calls could be traced, he wouldn't have chosen to call from somewhere so close to the store. He had been properly caught - not that he was about to admit it. "It's a winning theory, Mrs. Weasley. You nearly have me believing it! There is, of course, the small matter of motive."

"I would never presume to know your motives in their entirety," she replied, "mostly because I suspect there are so many that it would make my head hurt to be aware of them all. However, getting Severus away from Grace for long enough for you to plant the seeds of doubt is a far more subtle way to scuttle Severus and Grace's relationship than, say, making her ill by serving alcohol or making us ill by serving chicken feet."

"Mrs. Weasley, must I remind you that I am the one who retained your services on Severus's behalf? I am paying for him to find someone he's happy with. Why would I sabotage the process I helped initiate?"

"Why, indeed?" asked Hermione. "And why would someone who has such a low opinion of marriage as you bully his closest friend into seeking the services of a marriage broker?"

Clearly she was hoping he'd give himself away somehow. She was going to leave disappointed. "Mrs. Weasley," said Lucius coolly, "I have no answers for you. Indeed, I'm not even certain you've said anything in the past minutes that requires a response from me. I shall be happy to write to the Minister about having Miss Ling released from prison, but I will not keep Severus in the dark about his fiancée's whereabouts any longer."

"What do you suggest I say?" asked Hermione, who had drained the dregs of her cup and was looking at him with assessment so frank that it made his teeth grind.

"Anything you wish, Mrs. Weasley," he said, exasperation finally winning out over his desire to remain aloof and unperturbed.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," she said, rising. "I am of the opinion that you have behaved in the most boorish, selfish way imaginable and that full disclosure of that behaviour could permanently estrange you from the one person whose company you belatedly decided you could not live without. For your sake and Severus's, I will hold my silence for now. But I will not allow you near any of my other clients until you have stopped blaming your ex-wife for the lack of warmth between you and your sons, and ceased using Severus's friendship as an emotional crutch. If you can bring yourself to stop wallowing in misplaced resentment and work out exactly what you want, I may be able to help you. Until then, I thank you in advance for writing to the Minister on Grace's behalf and wish you a most pleasant day, Mr. Malfoy."

With that, she turned on her attractively stacked heel and stalked out of the room.

Lucius placed her teaspoon on the saucer next to it with a shaking hand. He watched it disappear with a barely-audible pop before he swore loudly to himself. How dare the presumptuous woman speak to him of his family! And how dare she characterise his dignity as "wallowing in resentment." Was it wallowing in resentment to avoid making a scene in public? Was it wallowing in resentment to give his son the time and space necessary to see Narcissa's cheap sentimentality and manipulations for what they were? Was it wallowing in resentment to attend his grandson's wedding and make things bearable for himself by drinking himself into – well, perhaps _that_ was wallowing in resentment, but _he_ was the wronged party. Was he not entitled?

He tossed back the contents of his glass with more vigour than strictly necessary and swore again when he realized he'd spilled a drop on his robe. Clearly, he had given too much away at their previous meeting if she'd been able to hurl such a lightning bolt in his direction. Perhaps it was for the best that she wanted nothing to do with him. It was certainly safer for everyone for a woman with such incisive powers of observation and analysis to be denied access to polite society.

"I suppose I should thank you," came a voice from the doorway. Severus was looking at him with an irritating look of pity.

"I haven't any idea what for," said Lucius, fully aware that he was pouting, and annoyed by it.

"I haven't either," said Severus, "but whatever you did certainly took most of the wind out of her sails. She was practically sweet when she informed me that my fiancée is in prison."

"Rotten luck, that," said Lucius. "I was just about to write the Minister to see about getting her out."

"That would be much appreciated," said Severus as he sat down with a sigh. A glass of the white burgundy appeared at his place. Traitorous elves.

Lucius summoned his quill and parchment and dashed off a terse note that the Minister would undoubtedly interpret as great urgency. When the owl had been sent, he was surprised to see Severus looking at him pensively.

"Well, Lucius, we seem to have reached the point of no return."

"Whatever do you mean?"

"This unfortunate episode all but guarantees that Grace will want us to live in America permanently."

"That's what you were planning on, wasn't it?"

"Yes," admitted Severus, "and no. I'd hoped that I would be able to convince her to live part of the year in England, but I sincerely doubt she'll be keen on the idea, now that she's seen the least hospitable side of the country."

"Surely it would be different if she were the wife of an English citizen. You were born in a Muggle hospital. You have a National Health number, for Circe's sake."

"It would be, but you've seen a glimpse of her fire. Can you imagine her taking this lying down?"

Lucius gave a bitter laugh. "Perhaps you two are better suited than I thought."

"Perhaps," said Severus. "However, I find myself having second thoughts."

An half hour earlier, Lucius would have been delighted by this news. Now, he gave his friend a sidelong glance. "Really?" he inquired as blandly as he could.

"I am very fond of Grace. She's extraordinary in more ways than I can count. But as you observed, she does demur to me on occasion, and I find that it makes me uncomfortable unless I understand why she's doing it. Otherwise, she could hold her behaviour over my head, which she is likely to do in this case. I do not relish moving away from England, Lucius. If it comes down to it, I am not confident that I should choose Grace over my current life."

"My dear man, are you not being the slightest bit premature? The woman isn't even out of prison yet, and you've already decided that you will not respond to an ultimatum that she hasn't made."

Severus frowned. "But you think it likely that she would make such an ultimatum?"

"I couldn't begin to speculate," said Lucius. "As you said, you know her far better than I do."

Severus looked at him stonily before making an exasperating sound and abruptly rising. "This is intolerable," he said.

Lucius was drumming his fingers on the table, and a second glass of white burgundy appeared before him. "I beg your pardon, Severus?"

"Perhaps I'm making this more complicated than it needs to be."

Lucius, utterly lost, looked at Severus searchingly.

"I never wanted a pinup girl, or a circus performer. I only wanted someone with whom I had some interests in common and enough brain between her ears to hold a pleasant conversation."

"Miss Ling certainly fills both requirements."

"She may," admitted Severus, "but she may not. Perhaps I might do better with someone who has seen the best and worst of me. Someone who would live with me in England and not push me into situations where I would feel awkward and uncomfortable."

"Terribly sorry, old man, but I haven't changed my mind. You are simply not my type."

"But Hermione might be."

Lucius had been taking a sip of wine when Severus made the extraordinary suggestion, and sputtered into his glass. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" he exclaimed, coughing.

Severus rose and thumped his friend on the back. "Now, hear me out. You find Hermione to be a fine woman, yes?"

Lucius, who was still wheezing to clear his airway, couldn't quite bring himself to pause sneeringly before nodding.

"And you are attracted to Grace, yes?"

"What man wouldn't be?" asked Lucius, catching his breath again.

"Don't you see how it works out?" asked Severus, clearly getting into the spirit of things. "With you at her side, nobody would dare look down on her. And you're far better at working out what women are really saying than I am. Hermione and I are more plainly spoken, and I wouldn't have to worry about her running away with someone else. She stuck with that ass Weasley for all those years, so her loyalty can't be impugned."

Lucius shook his head several times very rapidly. "Perhaps I misheard you, but it sounded to me as if you were offering me your fiancée."

"Well, there are the ladies' feelings to consider," said Severus.

"Of course," said Lucius, who had nearly recovered and was regarding Severus with a bemused look.

"So it only stands to reason that I should wait a few days after she's out of prison to break the news to Grace, quite possibly the next time she brings up the subject of living in America."

"That would be a convenient time," agreed Lucius, sitting back in his seat and watching Severus through veiled eyelids.

"And I believe that since you're one of Hermione's clients, you might inquire after her and possibly put in a good word for me, since she's likely to be disappointed that Grace and I didn't work out."

"What are friends for?"

"And the next time I call on Hermione, I shall ask her to dinner. Now, what do you say to that?"

"Severus, I say this as your friend, but you are a being an utter dunce."

Severus appeared not to have heard. "Perhaps I should ask Hermione to lunch first, to ease her into thinking of me not as a client but as a potential mate."

"You are missing or conveniently ignoring some essential information," said Lucius. "Firstly, that Hermione has rescinded her offer to find me a wife and banned me from her clients' presence, save yours, naturally, until I – how did she put it?- cease sulking over losing Narcissa to that new bit of totty and their transparent attempts to curry favour with Draco and the grandchildren."

Only a slight widening of Severus's eyes betrayed his shock. Lucius continued.

"Secondly, your possibly-to-be-former fiancée despises me, and rightfully so. Thirdly, Hermione is completely wrong for you."

"You said that Grace would be right for me," said Severus. "I hope you'll pardon my incredulity at your claim to know who's right or wrong for me."

"I said that Grace would be better for you than any of the old hags you'd chosen for their education," clarified Lucius, "I never said you should choose her. In fact, I've done nothing but discourage you from pursuing her since I met her."

Severus's expression hardened. "You've discouraged me from pursuing any woman I find of interest. Even you cannot deny that I am far better suited to Hermione than Grace. Hermione and I were both raised in Muggle England and attended Hogwarts. Neither of us suffers fools gladly, we both read for enjoyment, we like many of the same foods, and, sod it all, I think quite highly of her."

"My dear Severus, I say with the purest of intentions that Hermione is not the woman for you. She is a creature of particular tastes, and you wear the same shoes every day."

"What the deuce has that to do with anything?"

"That is precisely the point. What kind of tea do you drink, Severus?"

"The same as you, most of the time."

"And when you make it yourself?"

"Tetley's." Severus scowled at Lucius's knowing look. "Are you insinuating that I'm not refined enough for her? For pity's sake, the woman was married to Ronald Weasley, whose habit of talking with his mouth full was literally his fatal flaw. You can't say that I'm worse than that!"

"I would not have you in my house if you were," said Lucius. "You are my dearest and oldest friend, Severus, but if I had to answer to you for the small luxuries I allow myself, I should be far more likely to give you the old heave-ho than change my spending habits."

"Small luxuries?" exclaimed Severus. "You spent four thousand Galleons on shoes in a single week!"

"For Circe's sake, man, have you even looked at the woman's feet? She wears nothing but bespoke footwear."

"If not Hermione, then whom?" shouted Severus, exasperated. "I know that my Slytherin membership card could be revoked for admitting it, but I am utterly confounded by you. First you want to ruin Hermione. Then you want to pair me up with an American contortionist. Then you're against the contortionist and don't want me to have a woman that both of us think well of, either. I hadn't ever considered having a wife before you brought it up, which should have made me suspicious to begin with, but now I want one and one way or another I'm going to have one. I have had enough of you making a mess of my private affairs, Lucius."

"You seem to be doing an admirable job of that on your own if you're trying to replace your fiancée even before she's released from prison."

Severus looked as if he wanted to argue further, but he thought better of it. "Perhaps I am being hasty."

"Indubitably," said Lucius, who was feeling unpleasantly agitated and taking care to keep his voice even. "But you are an adult and entitled to be as hasty as you like. My primary motivation has always been your happiness."

Severus gave him a piercing look. "I think that I am better fit to judge what will make me happy than you are, Lucius. Good day."

The dining room door slam was distressingly final.

Lucius said nothing. He knew in that Severus and Hermione might be happy with one another, and he hadn't counted on his own strong aversion to the idea. Surely he wasn't afraid of losing Severus to Hermione? No, that wasn't quite it. But if not that, then what?

Lucius idly fingered the edge of his new china.

What indeed?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **© 2009 Mundungus42. All rights reserved. This work may not be archived, reproduced, or distributed in any format without prior written permission from the author. This is an amateur non-profit work, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights held by JKR or any other lawful holder. Permission may be obtained by e-mailing the author at mundungus42 at yahoo dot com

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the next few weeks, there were a number of marginally interesting items in _The Daily Prophet_. One was the announcement of S. Snape's marriage to G. Ling of Baraboo, Wisconsin, USA, unaccompanied by any photograph and written in such tiny type that a magnifying glass had to be utilised in order to read it.

Another such item was a splashy photo spread of a charity function hosted at Malfoy Manor to benefit Magic Steps, a non-profit organisation that helped send impoverished Muggle-borns to Hogwarts. One photograph featured the host with one arm around his grandson's shoulder and shaking Dean Thomas's hand. According to the write-up, Lucius Malfoy was at his most charming, the food and champagne were excellent, and a lovely time was had by one and all, even the former Mrs. Malfoy, whose green vintage Engelbert Proberto didn't do her complexion any favours.

The items were insignificant, one in size and the other in importance, but when combined with the delivery of an invitation to Hermione Weasley announcing an intimate dinner party at Malfoy Manor to celebrate Severus and Grace's nuptials, they were enough to make Hermione take notice.

She might have to spring for a new pair of shoes for the occasion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The evening of the party was clear, and a handful of stars had appeared in the sky by the time Hermione stepped through Lucius's Floo into the entrance hall by the terrace. The French doors were open wide, and the warm air was touched with the least bit of cool evening moisture. There were more people on the terrace sipping cocktails than Hermione had expected. Draco and his wife Daphne were there, and she quickly spotted the platinum-haired heads of their three sons, who had brought female companions as well.

Severus and Grace were in animated conversation with Grace's parents, who were every bit as lithe-looking as their daughter, and even tinier in stature. Pansy Parkinson, who had once been Severus's apprentice, was there with her husband, Emil, and their three eldest children, as well as a number of Hermione's other former clients. Hermione felt a swell of satisfaction looking at the group, knowing how many of these smiling couples she'd had a hand in creating. While she certainly hadn't gone into matchmaking for the satisfaction of a job well done, it was certainly a nice benefit.

"Disgusting, isn't it?" asked a conspiratorial voice in her ear.

She wasn't surprised to find her host at her side. "You would think so," she said wryly, turning to face him.

"Of course," he said, taking her proffered hand and shaking it in his surprisingly warm ones. "How can I be expected to maintain my reputation if all the people who come to my parties are so affable and utterly lacking in ostentation? You look lovely, by the way."

Hermione was far too self-possessed to blush, but even she wasn't immune to compliments, especially when she had made a special trip to the shoemaker for the champagne silk mules she'd commissioned the day she received Lucius's invitation. She forewent her customary disdain of old-fashioned customs and took his proffered arm without protest. "Thank you, that's very kind."

He steered her through the crowd, making polite talk that didn't even feel small, leaving her side only to greet new arrivals. Perhaps it was the excellent quality and quantity of the bubbly, but Hermione felt none of the awkwardness she expected to feel at Lucius's side, especially given their conversation the last time they had spoken. Grace and Severus looked blissful together, and their contentedness was reflected in the faces of those that surrounded them. Even Ganymede, Draco's youngest son, had met a spirited girl during his year abroad at Durmstrang who reminded her somewhat of her own daughter. He seemed almost apologetic that he had found someone without using her services, but Hermione laughingly assured him that she did not feel slighted at the least.

The sun had set entirely by the time the bell for dinner rang. The sky was filled with stars, and the air was thick with the fragrance of the lilac bushes that lined the terrace. The evening had cooled, but Lucius's hand on the small of her back remained warm. It was only when they crossed the threshold into the house that Hermione finally noticed that the champagne and hors d'oeuvres had been served by liveried servers and not by house elves. She turned to comment on this to Lucius, but he had vanished from her side to usher his guests into the dining room, whose chandeliers blazed with what Hermione was shocked to realise were electric lights. None of the other guests seemed to have noticed.

Grace was seated at Lucius's right, and Hermione sat on his left, next to Draco. If Draco was surprised that his father had given two Muggleborn women such prominent places at the table, he showed none of it. Lucius presided with ease over the conversation that flowed and ebbed with the arrival of the courses, each more delicious than the next. Hermione found herself laughing unguardedly at Lucius and Severus's good-natured bickering, and even Grace's parents, whose English had been learnt in Boston, were getting into the spirit of things.

When the dessert arrived, fresh strawberries and cream with (properly cooked) brandy sauce, Hermione felt a pang of nostalgia. Strawberries had been a favourite of Ron's, though, bless him, he wouldn't have enjoyed it much. He had never had any patience with formal dinner parties like this one. She was familiar with the residual guilt that occasionally struck her when she found herself enjoying something he would have hated or spending what he would have thought to be too much money on shoes, and she firmly set it aside. Ron's greatest gift to her had been his inability to brood over things, and on occasion she still heard his exasperated voice in her ear telling her to get on with it and stop being so bloody serious all the time.

"Are you well, Hermione?" asked Lucius in voice that was low enough not to be overheard, since Pansy's husband was in the middle of a riveting anecdote. "You looked quite sad for a moment."

She resisted the temptation to compare Lucius's polite solicitude to Ron's utter cluelessness about feelings. "I'll be all right," she said, giving him a small smile. "Thanks for asking."

"After coffee, liqueurs, and Severus's obligatory patter song, I would like to speak to you privately on a matter of some importance."

"Of course," she said, feeling an unexpected bit of warmth spread through her belly.

Clearly the man had been trying to make amends. Even Grace, who looked marvellously at ease amidst the purebloods, had forgiven Lucius for his horrid behaviour, at least the behaviour she knew about. Hermione had harboured grave concerns about not revealing to Grace and Severus who had been behind Grace's imprisonment, but if all it took to encourage Lucius Malfoy to play nicely with Muggles was a bit of leverage, she didn't need to worry about a relapse. Having any sort of upper hand where Lucius Malfoy was gave her a heady feeling. The entire table burst into laughter at the end of Emil's story, and Hermione found herself smiling in the face of universal good humour. It was like a champagne dream: sweet, soft around the edges, and warm.

She and Draco caught up on the doings of mutual acquaintances until everyone had finished their coffee, which was served in charmingly outlandish cloisonné cups, and she allowed Lucius to escort her and the other guests to the drawing room, where Draco showed Grace how to work a magical piano and Severus betrayed a near-encyclopaedic knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. Games were played (the Slytherins cheated outrageously), fine spirits were consumed, and before Hermione knew it, the guests were congratulating Severus and Grace and thanking Lucius for a lovely evening.

When Lucius and Hermione were the only ones left, Hermione couldn't blame Lucius's excellent Port entirely for the warm, slightly unsettled way her stomach was feeling. For his part, Lucius was doing a marvellous job of covering his nervousness, if Hermione's suspicion was correct and he was indeed feeling nervous.

"May I offer you a glass, Hermione?" he said, pouring himself a small dram of the single-malt that he had hidden in the back of the cabinet.

"That would be lovely, thanks," she said, leaning against the arm of the chaise she had occupied since the card game had broken up. When he handed her the glass, she couldn't decide if he'd always been that tall or if the chaise simply had short legs. He'd released his hair from the ribbon he'd worn earlier, and there was a small wave across the spill of pale blond tresses from where it had been held by its binding.

"Feel free to make yourself comfortable," he said, noticing her scrutiny with the calm mien of one who has always been beautiful and expects to be looked at. She detected something else as his gaze swept down her modest but tailored dress robes to her new shoes.

"Thank you, Lucius," she said, crossing her ankles and taking a sip of the peaty whisky. "Now, what was it you wanted to discuss?"

Lucius didn't answer. His eyes were still fixed on her feet. She had to admit, her new shoes were exquisite, even by her standards. The delicately coloured silk, studded with tiny crystals, left the tips of her toes bare and swept sinuously upward, revealing the entire arch of the foot. The heel was low so as to prevent fatigue, but it was so slender and shapely that it appeared much higher.

"Magnificent," he said, his voice low. He knelt before her, his loose hair falling over his shoulder, and he took the foot that she extended to him. His fingers were reverent, brushing the silk with the tips of his fingers, exploring the tiny stones and their nearly invisible mounts, running his fingers up and down the heel, memorising their shape, and brushing tantalisingly against the edge of her heel.

Hermione let out a rapid exhalation. "Lucius," she began, her voice lacking the professional command she had hoped to convey.

"You design them," he said in wonderment. "The charm work doesn't feel like yours, but they're your own design."

She smiled wryly. "You have an interest in ladies' shoes?"

"I have an interest in beautiful things," he answered, lowering his face to her foot and pressing his lips against the exposed arch of her foot.

A bolt of lightning shot through Hermione's body, and the sudden shudder that ran through her caused her foot to jerk out of his grasp.

His grey eyes were fixed on hers, seeking her permission even as he lifted her other foot and repeated the tender gesture. This time, there was no jolt, just a smouldering heat that radiated out from the bit of skin that his lips touched, heating her face and hands, and causing coils of pleasure to tighten in her abdomen. She was quite certain that Lucius's two kisses were the most arousing she'd ever received. However, she hadn't quite lost her head enough to note that her longstanding suspicion about him was correct- Lucius Malfoy was a force to be reckoned with because when he set his mind to it, he could do anything he wished. Even her, apparently.

"Lucius?" she tried again, this time able to give an interrogative flip to the final syllable of his name.

He slipped her right shoe from her foot and was ravishing her feet even more ardently than he had her shoes, with warm, firm caresses. He pressed the arch of her foot to his cheek and was nuzzling the ball of her foot with his eyes closed. "Yes, my dear?"

He pressed his thumb into the centre of her arch, and she nearly saw stars from the tension it released. "What, precisely, are you doing?"

"I am worshipping you," he said, rubbing between her toes with practised ease while his other hand worked steadily up her leg beneath her robe.

She shifted in her seat to give him access to the straps of her suspender belt, which his clever fingers released with enviable dexterity. "I see," she said. "Pardon my habitual wariness of your motives, but would you be so good as to explain why?"

He wordlessly rolled her stocking down from her thigh to toe and laid the neat torus of silk gently next to the shoe he had removed. "The last time we spoke," he mused, kneading her calf muscle and caressing the back of her knee, before reaching for her other foot, "you said you would not help me find a wife unless I worked out what I wanted."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he reached beneath her robes and unfastened her other stocking, this time giving her thigh a playful squeeze as he did so. It would have been entirely too easy to give herself over to his ministrations. "I seem to recall some other conditions," she said, attempting to give him a hard look.

His grey eyes shone with warmth and mischief as he rolled down her second stocking and placed it next to the first. "Do you not feel that those conditions have been satisfied?"

Hermione paused, expecting him to continue his ministrations, when she realised that he was waiting for her permission.

"Yes," she said. "I suppose I am satisfied."

"I'm delighted to hear it," he said with something of a vulpine grin before sliding the shoes back on her feet, ducking beneath the disarrayed skirt of her dress robe, and kissing his way up her leg. He buried his face between her legs, swirling his wicked tongue into her and teasing her clitoris with his talented fingertips.

Hermione gasped as his firm caresses, which sent shockwaves shooting through her synapses, and she was only vaguely aware that he was unfastening her suspender belt with his other hand. She was overwhelmed by the incredible feeling of his tongue on her, in her, its warm breadth lapping rhythmically across her hot flesh. She was surprised that she had the presence of mind to lift her legs and rest the smooth leather soles of her shoes on his thighs.

The effect was electric. Lucius gave the suspender belt one final tug, and the last catch sprang open, and he began to lap, nibble, and suck the tender skin until Hermione could only whimper her appreciation. Clearly, he understood what she meant, because he raised one had and threw the suspender belt behind him, where it bounced off the mantelpiece before coming to a rest on one of the overstuffed chairs that filled the room.

Where the hapless undergarment had fallen, Hermione noticed a large mirror, which hung several feet above the floor. In it, she could see herself on the chaise, scarlet-cheeked and hair escaping the army of pins deployed to keep it in place, creamy thighs spread wide to accommodate the man between her legs. The long, pale blond hair that was visible beneath the mantle of her skirt served as an irrefutable reminder that the man whose hands were massaging her buttocks and whose face was buried in her cunt was Lucius Malfoy, who had once epitomised pureblood arrogance and bigotry.

The realisation brought with it a powerful frisson of pleasure. She was thoroughly unprepared for her roiling arousal to come to a head so quickly and let out a surprised cry as her fingers sought purchase in the impossibly soft wool of his dress robes. When the stars in her vision began to clear and her breathing had slowed enough that she did not fear hyperventilating, she realised that he was still lapping at her, teasing her inflamed flesh with his tongue and lips and humming with satisfaction.

Now returned to herself, Hermione pulled her skirt up to her waist so she could see his face. She decided then and there that she had never seen a sight as beautiful as Lucius Malfoy, his loose hair mussed, his lips red and moist from her, and his eyes alight with pride at her pleasure. His eyes never left hers as he kissed the inside of each thigh and proceeded to unbutton the bodice of her robe, pressing his lips to each new vee of flesh that each button revealed.

"I trust that I have been clear in communicating to you exactly what I want, Hermione," he said in a whisper that was thick with arousal. He was now two buttons from the top of her bodice, and the elegant black and silver silk brassiere Hermione was glad she'd had the foresight to wear was nearly completely revealed.

"It certainly makes finding an ideal wife for you much easier," she said, fascinated by the way he avoided touching her breasts, and feeling her nipples tighten imagining what he could do to them.

"Would you be terribly offended if I told you that I had already taken the liberty of finding an ideal wife?" he asked, finally sliding the unfastened robe from her shoulders and planting warm kisses across her collarbone.

"You're asking me to forego my rightful fee?" she asked, reaching for the clasp between her breasts.

He stayed her hand, giving each finger a moment in his hot mouth. "Think of it as an investment in your business," he said. "Once word gets out that you've ensnared me, your number of clients is all but guaranteed to double."

Hermione threw back her head and laughed, "I suppose that's fair. Now, are you going to remove your clothes, or do I need to ask Grace how to throw you on the floor?" she asked, making short work of the knot in Lucius's cravat.

"Really, Hermione," said Lucius, whose calm, slightly reproachful voice was belied by the rapidity with which he toed off his Cordovan leather shoes and shed his cuff links, "one might think you have an axe to grind."

"Something like that," she said, greedily pulling him down on top of her, her hips seeking his. His mouth was hot, his tongue and lips supple and teasing, and he smelled of whisky, fine leather, and something indefinably warm and sweet.

His hands were pressed gently against the sides of her face, cradling it like something rare and precious, letting her go only to pull his arms out of his shirt and robes. Clearly, the man had meant what he said about keeping fit and had expended quite a bit of effort to keep himself so. She quite approved of his efforts, and nipped his nipple to tell him so.

Lucius seemed quite amused by this. "I imagine this is something of a novel experience for both of us," he said, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers.

Hermione released his nipple for long enough to meet his wry smile. "You could say that," she said.

"I've never made love to a war hero before, despite Severus's best efforts."

Hermione felt her mouth water as he stepped out of his trousers, clad only in a pair of diaphanous black underpants. "I must admit that I'm quite keen to try a scoundrel," she said.

"I ought to be hurt that you don't consider me a villain," he replied, grinning and aware of her hungry gaze. He slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and began to pull them down agonisingly slowly. "I tried so very hard to be one."

"I consider myself fortunate that your talents lie in other areas," she said, slipping her shoes back on and leaning back on the chaise, her hands cupping her silk-clad breasts and tweaking her erect nipples through the thin fabric. She was gratified to see his member twitch hard against the sheer black silk, and allowed an indolent smile to spread across her face.

His golden skin was slightly flushed, and his grey eyes were luminous as he watched her tease herself. He had paused a moment in his divestment, but when her gaze fell from his face to his straining cock, he resumed sliding down his waistband until at last his member sprang free, jutting proudly from a nest of dark blond curls. It was reasonably long, but its solid girth and thick glans made her insides squirm, and she involuntarily pressed her legs together.

He allowed his underpants to fall to the floor and stepped out of them with an air of nonchalance that she knew was feigned. She put her hands on her hips and slid them up the sides of her waist until she was cupping her breasts once more, rubbing the clasp between her breasts with one finger.

"Would you be so good as to do the honours, Lucius?" she asked, hardly recognising the breathy voice as hers. Good Gaia, she'd never been so keen for a shag in her life.

He stood over her, eyes ablaze, and the tip of his penis was now as red as his lips had been immediately after pleasuring her.

"I ought to warn you," he said, trailing a finger from the tip of her toe, across her exposed arch, and up her leg with agonising slowness, "that the article of furniture across which you are currently draped is rumoured to possess certain magical properties."

Hermione rubbed her bare arse against the heavy silk upholstery. It didn't feel particularly magical. "What sorts of properties?"

Lucius sat at the foot of the chaise and caressed her ankles and calves. "It belonged to an ancestor of mine who fathered twenty children, both legitimate and less so, upon it."

"I'm not terribly concerned about that," said Hermione, allowing one leg to fall from the side of the chaise to the floor. "I take regular precautions of both the Muggle and Magical variety."

"Pardon, I didn't mean to suggest that the magic causes fecundity," said Lucius, nipping gently at her thigh, "simply that something about seeing a witch upon it is enough to make a wizard stop in his tracks and make love to her. I certainly find myself helpless to resist."

"I might suggest an alternative," said Hermione, sitting up to meet him. She seized his hands and placed them firmly on her breasts. "Perhaps the magic simply allows the needs of the witch seated upon it to penetrate the incredibly thick skull of the man she desires."

Lucius ran his thumbs over her nipples, making gooseflesh ripple across her arms. "A most intriguing theory," he said. "It's one I should be most interested in exploring further."

"Perhaps we can theorise another time, as we have more pressing matters at present."

"Agreed," he said with such amiability that she was taken aback when he quickly unclasped her brassiere and fell upon her breasts, suckling, kneading, and laving with such intensity that it took her breath away. His hands were in her hair, running up and down her sides, and squeezing her buttocks and breasts, and his tumescence was pressed against the crease of her hip and thigh.

Her surprise lasted only a moment before she found herself responding in turn, caressing his warm skin and firmly muscled arms, chest, and legs. His buttocks were a revelation to her, equally firm and soft, as smooth as the silk chaise that they lay upon, but warm, and utterly delicious.

Finally, he kissed her mouth, his lips firm, insistent, and needy, teasing soft moans and sighs from her when he left her mouth for the spot below her ear that made her body arch into his, and he shifted to allow the head of his cock to come into contact with the outermost part of her lips. Her whole body shuddered at the intimate contact, and he raised himself to his elbows to gauge her readiness.

Honestly, did the man have no idea that she'd been ready for nearly fifteen minutes?

Whether it was the impatience of her expression or the magic of the chaise, he immediately understood what she needed. Instead of easing himself into her with the deliberateness he'd shown removing his pants, he drove his thick cock decisively into her, which made her keen in relief and completion.

Once ensheathed in her, he made several experimental thrusts with an intense look of concentration on his face that she nearly missed, being lost in the incredible sensation of being completely filled. Lucius was exquisite in his focus, his lips were pursed in what might have been a smirk but for the blaze in his eyes. His hair had fallen forward on his shoulders, and the tips of his tresses brushed her breasts as he thrust into her, his hips driving hers insistently into the chaise, his hands roaming across her body, pinching a nipple, squeezing a buttock, and caressing her face.

She was similarly occupied attempting to bring her skin in contact with as many parts of his body as possible. She rubbed her legs up and down his body and wrapped them around his waist, which tilted her hips enough to bring her clitoris into contact with the lower part of his shaft. A moment later, his fingers were there as well, tweaking, rubbing, and pinching the bundle of nerves as expertly as she was able to do herself, and she found herself on the verge of another orgasm.

She met his gaze and he gave her a wicked smile before gathering her tightly in his arms and lifting her, her legs still wrapped around his waist, and sliding himself up onto the chaise so that he was upright and she was seated atop him, his cock buried so deeply inside her that she had no idea where she ended and he began.

She was vaguely aware that she was gasping his name, and her insides were already beginning to shudder when she released her ankles, pushed him back on the chaise, and began to ride him in earnest, squeezing his hips between her thighs and tightening herself around him. Her breath shuddered as ripples of pleasure radiated from her centre, and the corners of Lucius's mouth, which had long since ceased smirking, had begun to twitch uncontrollably, until at last he seized her hips and pulled her down upon him, thrusting thrice before emitting a shout and spilling himself into her.

His loss of control quickly sent her over the edge as well, and she threw her head back and keened until the throbbing between her legs ebbed enough to allow her conscious thought.

She collapsed atop him, both of them breathing hard and pressing occasional kisses against one another's moist skin. Lucius tried unsuccessfully to tuck several escaped curls behind her ear before giving up with an affectionate nuzzle.

"I suppose this means you'll expect to come out on top of every philosophical disagreement we have," he said, shifting beneath her, which elicited a gasp.

She gave him an unfocused grin. "Would that be so terrible?'

"Only if it took you an equally long time to accept my surrender."

She gave an apologetic smile. "You must appreciate the delicacy of the situation. Neither of us would have been ready for the other before tonight."

"I was ready weeks ago," he said, tucking his hair beneath his head so that she could rest on her elbow. "However, the anticipation seems to have done you a world of good. It's almost enough to make me resume my callow ways so that you'll have to work equally hard for our next encounter."

Hermione hit him with a cushion.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Not long afterwards, there was an item of enormous interest in _The Daily Prophet_, detailing the most shocking elopement in recent memory between Lucius and Hermione Malfoy. There was speculation from gauche, ginger-haired quarters that the old rascal had managed to get the widow up the duff, but the following months proved that rumour to be unfounded.

There was also an item of lesser interest, announcing that the doors of Hermione Malfoy's marriage brokerage would be shutting for good. Several of Lucius's acquaintances assumed that this was because Lucius had managed to convince his wife that it was unseemly for her to continue working.

Hermione was perfectly content to let this explanation stand.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Notes: Enormous thanks to Mr. 42, my kind patient beta-reader and to lifeasanamazon for her lightning-fast, laser precise Brit-pick! You would give them both roses if you had to read one of my rough drafts. Also, thanks to Elen I., who let me know I'd misspelled the title. :D Additional thanks to Dreamy_Dragon73 for such marvellous prompts that were an utter delight to write! And last but certainly not least, to the ladies whose hard work made this exchange possible. Well done, and thank you for letting me play!

Plot arcs, syntax, and the occasional line have been appropriated from my favourite comedies of manners by Thornton Wilder, Jane Austen, and Oscar Wilde. Kate Dyson's Dining Room Shop is located at 62-64 White Hart Lane, London SW 13.


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